Star Trek: Suicide Run
by hall442
Summary: Takes place during the Federation Cardassian conflict. Featuring The ORIGINAL Prototype of the Excelsior Class, and a Vampire Captain, a Gorn, a Deltan, a Frankenstein, and a mismosh of other interesting characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Star Trek: Suicide Run**

Chapter 1

Admiral Sesok sat behind his desk, staring silently out his office window. It was a terrible thing; to deliberately ruin the career of a man and virtually sentence him to death. It was a desperate, callous move, one that he disagreed with to the depths of his soul. But Sesok had been overruled by the Council. They thought the plan to be a necessary one. A diversion to cover the tracks of the real operation. Two ships with the same directive; one expected to succeed, the other, never intended to.

Silently, he noted the document on his PADD, and started the plan in motion. Instead of being reprimanded and demoted, one arguably unstable Starfleet commander was promoted, put in charge of a ship, and given a mission. Commander-cum-Captain Lestan Darkraven would be in command of the recommissioned Excelsior class ship "Star Tiger." His crew would be composed of the worst dregs that Starfleet had to offer. Every "implacable," every "intractable," every "malcontent" that they could break loose from their current assignment. That meant several would have to be released from the stockades.

Working the opposite end of the assignment would be the Galaxy class vessel "Iliad," crewed by the best and the brightest and commanded by a seasoned veteran of the Federation/Cardasian conflict; one Andrew Gavrilov. If any Captain and crew could beat the odds of crossing Cardassian space and coming back, it would be Gavrilov. The Star Tiger would be a calculated sacrifice, for the greater good. They would be sent in along a supposedly secret, preplanned course, the information would be leaked to the Cardassian government. The enemy fleet would move to intercept and destroy the invading Federation vessel, leaving the actual path open for the Iliad and her crew. Star Tiger and her crew would be annihilated, Starfleet would disavow any knowledge of the operation, saying it was a renegade vessel commanded and crewed by criminals, they would bring forth the records of those individuals and the case would be closed. They would forever be remembered as traitors. There could never be any official acknowledgement of the diversionary measure. The general populace would never understand. Sesok wasn't sure he understood it himself.

He perused some more of the text from his PADD. The second in command of the Star Tiger would be... the Admiral stopped and reread the text. He couldn't believe it. Marius West was to be the second in command. He leaned back in his chair. This assignment was getting more distasteful by the moment. Marius and Sesok had graduated from the Academy together. Throughout their careers, they had served together many times. They had both made Admiral within months of each other. Then, had come the scandal. His best friend had been accused of blatantly disregarding the Prime Directive. He had interfered with an internal conflict of a developing civilization in the Derillion Sector. He had been busted from Admiral back to commander and placed in charge of a backwater space station, guarding the butt end of the Federation. Now, someone had decided to erase him altogether. Along with the rest of the dregs. Whatever Marius might be guilty of, Sesok knew he didn't deserve the kind of death he was being handed. Then again, the same could be said for the rest of the crew of the Star Tiger.

Emotionlessly, he signed off on the transfer papers. Again, he brought up the text on the ship, and studied it, shaking his head. He had tried to convince the council that it was foolish to send their operative out in a vessel so obviously outdated. The Star Tiger had been the original test model of the Excelsior class of ship. She had been sitting in dry-dock, all but forgotten for almost a hundred years. Her qualification for the job had been; when they tried a cold start routine on the engines, Star Tiger had been the only ship in the graveyard that had come on line. Several Ambassador class vessels had been passed over and a Nebula class. Besides, the council said, they didn't want the sacrifices to put up too much resistance. Better they thought, to end it quickly when it happened.

Admiral Armin Sesok finished his work and wearily, shut off the PADD. Looking out the window again, he whispered to himself.

"And may god have mercy on all our souls."

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Galen O'Mara stood in the center of the floor in Warp Engineering, looking in disbelief at the object of his miserable luck. First model TransWarp engines. A great experiment that had failed miserably. To actually work, the TransWarp system had to be constantly monitored and tinkered with. Starfleet had quickly abandoned the project as hopeless, stripped the two other Excelsior class vessels of the drive and pushed the Star Tiger into mothballs for future reference. Now, the antiquated ship and all her myriad idiosyncrasies were his headache. Idly, he wandered over to one of the massive control consoles for the TransWarp drive and started tinkering. That's what Galen was, more than anything else, a great tinkerer. It was also why he was shuffled from base to base, ship to ship. He didn't believe that the Starfleet Technical manual was the ultimate end all and be all of engineering. If he knew a better way, he used it. Unfortunately, his commanding officers didn't agree with his rather loose interpretation of the rules. In fact, most downright frowned on Galen. So he had been transferred, and transferred, and so on, until he ended up on the Star Tiger. In Engineering on an antique, that he was expected to have up and running within days. Oh well, at least he would be able to do things his way; after all how much farther down could they send him?

* * *

The shuttle Aquarian pulled up along side the Star Tiger and cruised by, heading for the flight deck. Smartly, the little craft whipped around and into the hangar. A few Ensigns were present, finishing the installation of the one way force shield that allowed the shuttle deck to remain open to space. Even this piece was a hand-me-down from another decommissioned ship. The Aquarian landed gently and the door swung open. Commander Marius West stepped out, and looked around. He half snorted in disgust, half looked around in reminiscence. The Excelsior class had been the first vessel type he had been assigned to right out of the Academy. That had been over fifty years ago, and the ship design had been considered obsolete then. Somewhere, someone was really getting back at him. That was fine. He was more than willing to pay the price for what was considered to be his "mistake." He had saved thousands of lives on Sergod 2 in the Derillion sector, and to him, that was more important than his rank. If Starfleet didn't feel the same, well then, they should.

An Ensign, walking up to the shuttle to attach monitoring and refueling cables, noticed the rank pips on the old man's collar. He eyed the pips, and manipulated his jaw slowly, as if trying to make a decision. Finally, he came to one. He stood up straight (after finishing his task) and roared...

"Officer on deck!"

The other crew members moving in a lackluster manner about their tasks, stopped and stared at the new arrival. None made the move to salute the officer. West raised one eyebrow and looked in ruffled amusement at his crew.

"At ease, everyone. Go about your duties." He turned and looked at the man who had announced his presence.

"Ensign...?"

The individual approached the commander and stopped, looking steadily in the old man's eye.

"Grave, Commander."

"Thank you Ensign Grave. Have any other of the command personnel passed through here on your shift?"

"No. Other than Lieutenant Commander O'Mara, you're the first one aboard." the man said tonelessly. Marius looked keenly at the man before him. He was a bit old to be of such low rank.

"What's your crime, that you got sent here?" the Commander asked, nonchalantly.

The other shrugged.

"I like to fight. I decked a few officers in the Klingon Fleet. They busted me and put me in the stockade. I got five years hard labor. A week ago, I'm released and assigned here."

The old man contemplated the Ensign's story. It sounded familiar. Too much so.

"Well, I trust you'll keep your antagonistic tendencies under wraps?"

"Do my best Commander West."

The older man was surprised that the sullen looking individual before him even knew his name. He nodded politely and moved past him toward the corridor.

"Commander!"

West turned and looked back.

"Damn fine thing you did on Sergod 2. We all heard about it in the stockade. Good to be serving under you." the man smiled slightly and nodded.

The Commander smiled back and turned back to the open door. Now, to the bridge.

* * *

Lestan Darkraven was a man of questionable genetic history. His accent was tinted of French. His hair was uncharacteristically long (for an officer) and very blonde. He stood about six foot and two inches tall and was very muscular. His eyes were of an intense blue, that seemed almost to change with his mood. His medical history was considered classified. A scholar, with more than a passing interest in the occult, he seemed to come alive at night. Darkraven had entered Starfleet later than most, registering his age as twenty-four. He was apparently independently wealthy, though nobody could actually say how much he was worth. Promotions seemed to come quickly for him (also rumored to be connected to his wealth, and where he spread it liberally), until an incident that stopped his career advancement in it's tracks.

As a Commander, serving aboard the Federation diplomatic vessel "Sarek", he had been assigned to escort and guard the soon to be married daughter of an Ardanan ambassador. She was to be married to the son of the ambassador from Merak. Such a bond was to insure a working link between the agricultural world of Merak and the mining world of Ardan. One problem; the daughter couldn't stand her groom to be. The young woman couldn't reconcile herself to being the object in a deal. She begged and pleaded with the young Starfleet Commander to allow her to escape, and not be entrapped in a life of which she wanted no part. Lestan turned his back and never looked, as the ambassador's daughter took flight. While no one could actually prove that it was deliberate dereliction of duty, the higher echelon of Starfleet insured that Commander Darkraven would never advance beyond that rank; irregardless of his monetary situation.

Captain Lestan Darkraven looked upon his promotion and subsequent command assignment with more than a bit of trepidation. He knew what he had done and knew those who in the Fleet had blackballed him. When he suddenly found himself promoted, those individuals who had been against him, had seemingly done a 180 and where now in his corner. Then he found that the Star Tiger was a recommissioned ship, of a class antiquated almost sixty years before. More than that, it was the original prototype of that class. Quietly, through non-regulation channels, he checked the background of the crew being assigned to his command. More trouble. He soon realized that his promotion was more a part of his punishment, than any sort of a reward.

The private, D-Warp shuttle "Maharet" approached the Star Tiger and swung itself into position for landing. Lestan brought the craft in expertly, parking next to the "Aquarian". He looked about the interior of the bay, before disembarking. Several crewmen were moving about, completing various tasks. Quickly, he swiveled his flight chair about, and made for the door. The air on the Star Tiger seemed to be stale in comparison to that of his shuttle. He noticed a few of the crew staring at his ship. He smiled to himself. It wasn't everyday one saw a DeVass Concepts Mark IX. There were only a handful of them operating in the Galaxy. They were owned by the mega-rich or planetary governments. Considered to be the absolute top of the line in luxury, personal interstellar transport, they were unbelievable expensive. Lestan owned two. The second, "Point-du-Lac", was being delivered.

The Ensigns nearest him and the shuttle quickly noticed his pips and stood at attention. He smiled and waved them to relax.

"Ensign." he smiled at a woman standing closer than the rest.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Please see to my shuttle, will you? Refueling, servicing, and the like."

"Yes Sir."

Quickly, he turned and headed out the door and towards the bridge.

* * *

Lieutenant Commander Lia Stronn walked down the corridor towards the turbolift. Hurrying from an intersecting hall, Marius West nearly bowled the slightly built, Deltan woman over.

"Terribly sorry Lieutenant..." the old man stopped and looked in disbelief at the face of the woman he was helping to her feet.

"That's quite alright, Admiral West." she replied, her voice soft and musical.

"Commander now." West replied, catching his breath, "Pardon me Lieutenant, but am I incorrect, or weren't you barred from serving as a counselor in Starfleet?"

"You should know, Commander," the woman shrugged and smiled, "after all, you presided at the hearings. I do appreciate the fact that you did vote in favor of dropping all charges."

The elder laughed, and took the young woman's arm, guiding her into the turbo lift.

"It seemed a matter of semantics, at the time. Yes, you did break regulation by sleeping with several of your patients, but not one of them would testify against you. Several even went so far as to purger themselves in your behalf. I'm just sorry I was overruled in the matter."

"Quite alright. I've been reinstated and placed on the Star Tiger as Ship's Counselor."

"Really? Well, I don't know weather to congratulate you or not."

"Why?"

"Because, someone, somewhere is going to a lot of trouble to reassign quite a few "undesirables" to this command. It almost looks like the Fleet is cleaning house."

"Pardon me, Commander, I don't know weather I should be insulted or not," the woman grinned, "being described as an undesirable.'"

"Bridge." West said, as the doors swished shut. "Our Captain has been blackballed as well. I checked. Still have a few friends in the upper echelon." he chuckled.

The beautiful, bald woman frowned. "Then you suspect... what?"

"I don't know." the other replied, shaking his head.

* * *

Dr. Jane Franken looked about her sickbay, and ground her teeth in frustration. The equipment was hopelessly outdated. She could never continue her experiments here, let alone minister to the patients she was supposed to keep in good health. She went to her desk and sat. Staring mutely for a moment at her terminal, she finally puzzled out how the antiquated piece of junk worked.

"Computer."

Working. the flat, toneless voice said.

"Have any command personnel reported in yet?"

Captain Darkraven and Commander West have just arrived.

"Good." the woman sighed, "Let me speak to the Captain."

Captain Darkraven is unavailable at this time.

"Unavailable? Why?"

He is currently between decks, attempting to track a malfunction in bridge control.

The gray haired woman raised an eyebrow and smirked. Lestan always had been an officer who liked to get dirty. It was a pleasant change of pace.

"Very well. Please notify him that Dr. Franken would like to speak with him at his earliest convenience."

Understood.

* * *

The powerfully built reptilian, Lieutenant Tzardoz, strode down the corridor, looking neither right nor left. He was well aware of the frightening picture he painted, moving quite a bit faster than the normal native of Gornar. The Star Tiger's Chief of Security was one of a handful of his people who had opted to join Starfleet, rather than their own people's space service. Tzardoz stood just over seven feet, a good height for one of his people, and was particularly fluent in the Federation Standard that all Starfleet personnel were required to know. The Gorn was the perfect security officer; driven, calculating, logical to a fault. His problem had been his apparent inability (or lack of willingness) to assimilate more fully into Starfleet social life. Being one of the first and few of his people in the Fleet, he had been subject to numerous party invitations as a representative of his race. Tzardoz had angered many of his superiors by consistently refusing any contact with these "Glory grabbing beaurocrats" as he had termed them. As such, the members of his race who were better at assimilating, or "kissing up," as one of his few friends called it, had advanced, while he had been assigned to backwater stations, research vessels, any duty which provided little opportunity for advancement, and less for mental stimulation. It was at one of these postings that he had met Dr. Jane Franken. In a quiet discussion in sickbay, he expressed his misgivings about his own fighting and defensive abilities. Though his people were exceptionally intelligent, their brains did not devote much room for the motor nervous system. Was there anything the Doctor could give him to help increase his reaction time? Quietly, Dr. Franken had explained that normal Starfleet Medical knowledge had nothing that could help him on a consistent basis. There were certain chemicals that could increase his reaction time over the short duration, but with certain undesirable side effects. However, would he consider an experimental treatment? She had been working on a chemical that could resequence DNA, and quite possibly she could adapt it to force his underdeveloped motor centers to grow. Having nothing to lose and being quite frankly bored, he had agreed. Within a month, his reaction times had increased a hundred fold. He was now just slightly faster than the average human. This made him vastly more dangerous.

Calmly he ducked to enter the turbolift, and was surprised when a short, dark haired female zipped into the lift with him. Taking every precaution not to frighten her, Tzardoz stood still, in the farthest corner and waited till she faced him. Then he spoke.

"Bridge."

The tiny woman appeared to be of human Oriental stock, as he understood such things. She was smiling up warmly at him and didn't look to be the least uncomfortable. The Gorn was immediately nervous.

"Hi! I'm Ensign Kilo Tedesco, Ops." she put out a hand.

Tzardoz nodded gravely, and accepted the gesture. His hand seemed to swallow her own in its depths.

"Lieutenant Tzardoz. Security."

"You're a Gorn, aren't you?" the woman asked, still beaming brightly.

"Yes."

"I thought so. It's one of the reasons I joined Starfleet. I mean, to meet alien races such as yours."

"I joined Starfleet because my own people wouldn't accept me." The giant reptile replied stonily.

"Why not?"

"They said I was too pacifistic."

The doors to the bridge swung open, and the two new crewmen walked out, straight into a chaotic scene. Part of the deck plating had been lifted and a pair of legs were waving in the air, the upper half of the body seemed to be trapped. Several of the bridge personnel were heaving frantically at the legs, trying to lift the individual out of whatever trap they had gotten themselves into. Kiko scampered down from the upper landing and over to the group of struggling humans.

"Are you alright in there?" she asked nervously, peering down into the hole, but unable to see any more of the trapped crewman.

"I am fine, Mademoiselle. Pardon, but could you please ask the people tugging on me to let go?"

"Everybody back off!" the little woman bellowed. Almost instantly, the area around the trapped person cleared.

"Now," said the disembodied voice, "would you please be so kind as to call Engineering and get a crew up here to cut me out of this mess?"

"That will be unnecessary, Ensign." Tzardoz rumbled.

"Excuse me, whomever you are, but you are not the one trapped between decks! I would like to get out of here!" the disembodied voice called, now sounding slightly annoyed.

"Relax your muscles. Become as limp as you can." the Gorn said, taking hold of both of the trapped individual's legs.

"Very well," the voice sighed, " but the rest of the crew has tried this already. I sincerely doubt..." Tzardoz heaved, and with a slight pop, Lestan Darkraven came lose from his predicament.

"Thank you very much!" the captain smiled, looking up at the Gorn, "Lets see... you would be Security Chief Tzardoz, no?"

Stunned, the reptilian officer lowered his Captain to the floor, and waited for him to rise.

"Yes Sir."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Lestan Darkraven, Captain of the Star Tiger. Welcome aboard." the man grinned, offering his hand. Tzardoz took it, and immediately noted that the man's flesh was cooler than his own. Normally, this meant death in human beings, but the man before him seemed anything but dead.

"Thank you Sir." Tzardoz replied, releasing the Captain's hand.

"I think that completes our command personnel, does it not? I would like to schedule a staff meeting as soon as possible. We have much to discuss, as I'm sure you might guess."

The Gorn guessed nothing, except this was another backwater, nowhere posting for him. But he was determined to do his best, regardless of the situation.

* * *

Lieutenant Selon looked coldly at her quarters. They were, to her, cramped and inadequate for her needs. But what better was she to expect, on an antiquated tub of a starship. Her combadge beeped, breaking the Vulcan woman out of her dark musings.

"Selon here."

"Lieutenant, this is Captain Darkraven. Please report to

Conference room One in twenty minutes."

"Understood. Selon out."

The Vulcan woman turned and sullenly began to unpack her belongings. He could wait til she was damned good and ready to report to him. He sounded like another dandy; all romance and no work. She might not have chosen to completely follow the path of her people, but in that one aspect, he would find her as cold if not moreso, than all the rest. That and her extreme good looks had combined to make her life in the Fleet just short of hell. She had been shuttled from place to place, at each, rejecting the advances of her commanding officers. Selon expected this assignment to be no different.

It took her almost twenty five minutes to finish unpacking, at which time her comm badge beeped again.

"Selon here."

"Lieutenant," came the Captain's voice, "we are waiting on you." there was a hint of coaxing amusement in the man's voice. It took all she could do to keep from grinding her teeth.

"Understood. Selon out."

Steeling herself for the dressing down she knew she was headed for, the Vulcan woman walked stiffly from her quarters and to the turbolift. Five minutes later, she was standing before the doors of the conference hall. She stepped forward, and the doors slid open to admit her.

"Ah, Lieutenant Selon, so glad you could make it. Please, have a seat."

The Science Officer was momentarily taken aback by the blond, blue eyed human's easy manner.

"I'd like to introduce the rest of our little family; Commander Marius West," she looked at the old man, sitting just to the right of the Captain. Much too old to be a mere Commander. Almost mandatory retirement age.

"Lieutenant Commander Galen O'Mara, Chief Engineer," a dreamy eyed man, perhaps in his early thirties. Probably one to watch out for, if the Irish reputation was to be taken into account.

"Doctor Jane Franken, ship's physician," An older woman, early fifties, perhaps. Hair graying, expression severe.

"Lieutenant Tzardoz, Chief Security Officer,"

A Gorn! Now that in itself was surprising.

"Lieutenant Commander Lia Stronn, Ship's Counselor." A Deltan female! Even more surprising. And one reputed to make a practice of sleeping with her patients; man or woman. She settled into her seat, an ironic smile on her face. This might actually be an interesting assignment, if the Captain didn't transfer her out the first time she rejected him.

"Well people, it goes like this; we are here for a purpose. I have as yet to be informed of it, other than the fact that we are to get this ship into battle readiness in less than a month." Darkraven began.

Down the table, Chief O'Mara groaned quietly.

"I've been given carte blanche to do as I see fit in getting this vessel and her crew as ready as I may for whatever they decide to throw in our laps. So, to that end, I've taken the liberty of supplementing our operating budget with some of my own money. I wanted to inform you, and the other department heads, to make up your wish lists. I'll be assigning a special task force to work on filling them."

Marius West smirked.

"Pardon... Captain, but I don't think that's what Starfleet Command intends for us."

"Mr. West, please elaborate."

"I've been doing some checking. Do you know that each and every member of your new crew' has had some sort of disciplinary problem? Without exception, every person on board this ship has been reprimanded, busted in rank, thrown in the brig, and in some cases actually spent time in penal colonies. In other words, just about every undesirable in Starfleet is on this ship." the old man leaned forward, a keen glint in his green eyes. "What does that suggest to you?"

Darkraven digested this information for a moment. He knew that he had acquired a high percentage of problem' cases, but had not been quite aware of the extent of the infiltration.

"It sounds like we're going to be a prison ship."

"Not likely." Dr. Franken snorted. "Some of those penal colonies make hell look like a family vacation spot."

"You said we were definitely put here for a purpose." the Gorn rumbled, "Have you any idea what that might be?"

"Beyond the job of readying this ship, I have none." the blond man said grimly.

Marius West chuckled.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough, I expect. Why don't we just concentrate on the immediate problem; getting this ship moving."

"Agreed. Mr. O'Mara, do you have a preliminary report for us?" the Captain asked.

The Chief Engineer leaned back and sighed.

"All I can tell you is what you pretty much already know. This was a prototype ship. In fact, a lot of the stuff on board never made it into the final version of the Excelsior class vessel. We've got Transwarp engines, an experimental defense shielding system, some obscene form of phaser that I have no doubt is non-functional, and the photon torpedo setup is strictly laughable."

"And the good news...?" the Captain asked expectantly.

O'Mara looked at him blankly.

"That was the good news."

"Then I guess we have our work cut out for us."

The little group of command personnel grumbled and nodded.

"Mr. Tzardoz?"

"Yes, Captain?" the Gorn sat up straight.

"I would like you to start reviewing the personnel records of our new crew."

"Yes Sir. What in particular am I looking for?"

"A black marketeer." the Captain sat back in his seat, fingers steepled in front of the evil smile on his handsome face.

* * *

Thomas Grave was quietly building his still, between the inner and out hulls of the Star Tiger, just near the juncture of the saucer and primary hull sections. So intent upon his labors, in the dark, cool area, that he did not hear the approach of the intruder until it was far too late.

"Ensign Grave?"

Thomas Grave, black marketeer, bootlegger and general hell raiser nearly jumped out of his skin. Sighing, he turned to face his punishment. Then, he looked at the unnaturally large set of boots on the floor. Then up, up... up, into the face of... a species that he had only heard of. He swallowed very hard.

"I'm being sent back to the stockade, ain't I?"

"Not to my knowledge." the monster before him replied. The being cast a casual glance over the Ensign's shoulder at the mass of plastic tubing and illegal heat generators. "The Captain wants to see you. Sent me to find you when we realized you had taken off your combadge."

"Ah. Any idea why?" the human asked, beginning to wrap up his little structure. If the Gorn didn't ask, he wasn't about to tell.

"I believe he needs your apparent expertise in... acquisition."

Grave stopped in his tracks.

"Uh, he wants me to... liberate some stuff for him?"

"You'll have to ask him. He's waiting on us now." The alien said, moving to the side to allow the smaller man to precede him.

"Ah, okay. Say," he stopped suddenly and turned to his escort, "How'd you find me without my combadge. I didn't think internal sensors could monitor down here."

"They can't. I tracked you by scent. By the way, your... aftershave is most overpowering." the big creature seemed to shudder slightly.

"Thanks. Got it on special discount from..." he petered off realizing he was talking to a security officer. Not the best person to be chatting with about your day to day illegal activities. Grave opened the lock between decks, and crawled out into a storage room. Quickly, he got up and turned to see how the giant reptile was going to get out through the exceedingly small portal.

Tzardoz seemed to contract on himself, to visibly grow thinner and he slithered through the hatch. The Gorn got to his feet just as quickly as the human had. He stood there, teeth glinting in the dull light.

"Shall we proceed?" he gestured towards the storage room door.

* * *

Armin Sesok looked sternly out the forward viewport, as his shuttle approached the Star Tiger. The ship was a swarming mass of activity outside, with dozens of people in EV suits crawling across her outer hull, making adjustments and replacing running lights. To this point, the Admiral's main problem had been keeping the ship a secret within the fleet. All supplies and service for the ship had been drawn off of secret emergency stores that had been laid aside years before. Nothing was coming through main channels. Besides the Counsel, and the Captain of the Iliad, no one else in Starfleet knew of the existence of this ship and crew.

"Sir, shall I do a flyby, before putting us in to dock?" asked the shuttle pilot, an edgy man by the name of Barclay.

"Certainly, Commander. I haven't seen one of these old birds in years. You know, the Excelsior class was my first vessel. I was an Ensign, in Engineering." the old man mused, as the shuttle began a long, slow pass of the ancient starship.

"Indeed, Admiral? I've long admired the design."

"Yes, a sturdy vessel, if not as beautifully streamlined as those of today." he sighed, lovingly, staring dreamy eyed at the ship.

"I think she has a lot of personality over the newer Fleet ships." the Commander said chattily, "I wouldn't mind serving aboard her."

The Admiral's dreamy expression went cold.

"No, Commander Barclay, I don't think you want to do that. Not at all..."

The two men fell silent as the shuttle finished its journey and swung around into the shuttle bay. They landed bumpily next to two luxury class D-Warp shuttles. Barclay stared wide eyed at the phenomenally expensive vehicles. Sesok barely spared them a glance. He was already familiar with Darkraven's ostentatious attitude about his wealth.

"Come along, Commander. They aren't expecting us, but I don't want that to make us later than we have to be."

"Yes Sir." the other man said, finishing the final shutdown of the little ships' engines. He spun around and hurried out the door after his commanding officer.

The crew which was working in the bay, looked particularly scruffy to Barclay. There were many instances of non-regulation uniform changes and hair or beard growth. It seemed that the Captain of the Star Tiger was running a pretty loose operation. Either that, or they were so involved with the actual task of readying the ship, that he was deliberately overlooking such things for the interim. He saw the Admiral standing in front of an old-style intership communication unit. The older man appeared to be digesting the view and trying to remember just how the device worked. Before Barclay could offer help, the Admiral reached out and touched the device.

"Admiral Sesok to Captain Darkraven."

There was silence for several moments before anyone answered. Then, it was a female voice.

"Um, Admiral? This is Lieutenant Commander Stronn. The Captain is unavailable at this moment, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, Commander, I want to speak to Darkraven. Whenever he becomes available, please send him to conference room one."

"Very well Admiral."

"Oh, and one more thing, Commander." the older man said, almost sheepishly.

"Yes?"

"Where is conference room one?"

* * *

"You want me to get all of this stuff. In less than a month."

"Yes, Ensign Grave, yes I do." Lestan Darkraven said, a ghost of a smile playing about his face. The two men sat in the Captain's cabin, the junior officer swilling occasionally from a glass of ancient Scotch that his senior had given him. Not only was Scotch his preferred drink, but this was the best brand that had ever passed through his lips. But Thomas Grave never let good booze interfere with business negotiations. He took a deep breath, feeling the burn of the drink, then he continued.

"Sir, I'm good. In fact I'm probably one of the best at what I do in the Fleet. But I got caught. There's maybe only three other men who could come close to my hustle."

"They're probably on board." the Captain interrupted.

Grave paused.

"Well, that would certainly be helpful." he hesitated.

"Requisition whomever you need. I'll have the lists downloaded to your PADD. I don't care how or where you get the equipment, just do it." the blonde man said, with a flash of a smile.

"Y'know, Captain, some of this stuff is going to be beaucoup expensive. Not to mention the danger involved dealing with the Ferengi and Romulans."

"Ensign Grave, money is no object. I intend to refit this vessel pretty much out of my own pocket. Starfleet is up to something. And I intend to be more ready than they apparently wish us to be." he replied, standing. The junior office stood also, and handed the Captain back his glass.

"Damn fine hooch, Sir."

Darkraven grinned.

"There's plenty more, and better where than came from, Thomas. now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment."

"Certainly Sir. I'll get right on this. Expect the first shipment in by the end of this week." Grave snapped off a salute and sauntered out of the Captain's quarters. The tall, blond man relaxed and sighed. Quietly, he turned and made his way into the bedroom. There, he went to the wall, where a personal replicator had been installed. This was the only such device on the ship, and operated independently of the ship's computer. It was totally self contained.

"Type AB negative. 98 point six degrees Fahrenheit." he said quietly. There was a flash, and a fluted glass appeared on the little ledge. The Captain of the Star Tiger reached down and picked it up. He swirled it slowly, like a fine wine, and admired the bouquet. Then he downed the red liquid in a quick slug.

"There. Now, on to the Admiral." He smiled, and placed the glass back on the little ledge for recycling.

Calmly, he wiped his mouth and walked out the door. In moments, he had passed through the corridors and up several levels to the conference room area. Inside the room, were Admiral Armin Sesok and another man, whom he didn't know. Luckily enough, they were facing away from him.

"Admiral, what a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?" he said quietly, startling the both of them.

"Captain Darkraven! I... I didn't hear the doors. Ah no matter. Not paying attention," the older man said. The other officer, a Commander, looked intently at the mysterious officer. He hadn't heard the doors either. And he had been paying attention.

"Welcome to the Star Tiger, Sir. I had know you were coming I would have arranged something." the smiling man said, moving into the room, hand extended.

"That was part of the plan, Captain." Sesok said, rising to accept the handshake. "No one in the Fleet, excepting for a select few like Commander Barclay here, knows about your current assignment."

"Ah, which is...?"

Sesok smiled grimly. This man was much too likable. He abhorred lying to him in this base fashion.

"You're going to be taking this ship into Cardassian space, on a secret mission. Backup will be provided for you by Captain Gavrilov and the Iliad."

Lestan sat down at the table quietly, and frowned. "Wouldn't it make more sense to use us for backup, Sir? I mean, this ship is an antique, and we're having a devil of a time requisitioning parts. It's almost as if we're not intended to have a working vessel."

Sesok tensed internally.

"Nonsense. I'll try and speed things up a bit for you. That's all I can do for right now. You'll receive more specifics right before you're to leave. I'm being forced to play Starfleet's hand rather close to the chest on this one. The Cardassians appear to have eyes everywhere."

"I sincerely hope this is a non-combat situation for us, Sir. The Star Tiger isn't outfitted to take on a D-Warp shuttle, let alone a Cardassian cruiser."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that Captain. You're just a backup, and you're supposed to be an unobtrusive one at that. That's why the Excelsior class vessel. The enemy is familiar with our Fleet designs and specs. They know as well as we do how outmoded this ship is. They won't be frightened by it, and we think they'll ignore you entirely in favor of the Iliad." the older man said, blatantly lying. Inside, he felt

truly nauseous for what he was doing.

"Very well, Admiral. I'll await my clarification orders then,"

Darkraven said, standing and smiling stiffly.

"Good. We'll be contacting you shortly then. Commander?"

Barclay stood and followed the Admiral. He stopped briefly in front of the Captain.

"Good luck, Lestat."

"That's Lestan, Commander Barclay." the other said, a frigid smile on his features.

"Of course." Barclay smiled, nodded and walked out the noisily hissing door.

"Bloody hell." the blond man said mildly. Even his OWN kind ALWAYS confused him with that nit-wit.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Thanks for the comments and critiques! Most appreciated. :) Enjoy!

**Star Trek - Suicide Run**

**Chapter 2**

Galen O'Mara sweated profusely, as he crawled through the Jeffries tube. It was filthy, dirty, dark, and he loved it. He surprised himself at how quickly he was warming to the old ship. Especially since the captain was giving him free hand in its repair and refitting. He had stopped concerning himself ordering parts, and gave the Ensign, one Thomas Grave, a list of his needs.

"Now, how much do I have to stick to the letter of this thing?" the man had asked, reading the text which appeared on his PADD.

"As long as I can make use of it, I'll take it. I realize a lot of that equipment is wishful thinking, but do the best you can."

The other man smiled.

"Don't be so sure. I've got some sources that would curl your toe nails."

"The antimatter containment center is my main need. I have to have something stronger and safer or I'm severely limited in what I'm going to be able to do with the rest of the ship."

Grave nodded.

"Will do. Say," he said, looking up from the PADD, "I know somebody behind Romulan lines. How about one of their Forced Singularity cores instead of an antimatter unit?"

"Oh, now that would be interesting." the Chief Engineer whispered, gazing back at the weakly pulsing containment unit.

"I'll get right to work on it." the Ensign replied, turning and striding out of Engineering.

Now, he was involved in replacing some of the ship's antiquated wiring and circuits with some Klingon Isolinear type chips. At least that's what he thought they were. When they had arrived along with Grave, he had been quite evasive about where they had come from. Only that the commissioning of one of the Empire's new K'Tanga class, ultra heavy battle cruisers was going to be delayed indefinitely. O'Mara didn't care. He only asked that the parts be kept coming. He was running the Engineering staff on three shifts, twenty-four hours a day.

Jane Franken gleefully examined the new shipment of medical equipment that had just arrived from Vulcan. It was the absolute latest design, not yet readily available to Starfleet. It had apparently come straight from the development lab to her. The Ensign who had delivered the machinery to her had told her to check the stuff out thoroughly. Apparently they weren't sure if final testing had ever been completed on most of it. A brand new, high density medical scanner, which could do much deeper examinations in a fraction of the time the old could; a new technology altogether for the fleet, a device that could scan and clone replacement organs and body parts; a computer that could link to the main computer and instantaneously access any medical reference to any medical problem in Starfleet history. This was of special value since it came complete with Vulcan medical histories and a limited Romulan history. With this equipment, she knew she would be able to carry on her research, which the Federation had so rudely interrupted. Jane Franken had been stripped of the right to practice medicine and had been incarcerated in a medium security stockade. All for some unauthorized experimentation. They had even ignored the fact that her tests and treatments had proven beneficial to her subjects. Ungrateful.

Then, she had been surprised by the release from the stockade, her reinstatement as a full doctor and subsequent assignment to this ship. Jane Franken wasn't dumb. She knew when she was being set up. But then again, it was looking as if everyone on the ship had been set up. The routine medical checkups she had been running were proving quite entertaining. Most of the crew were covered in a variety of scars and replacements parts which screamed of their checkered pasts. They had begged the doctor to remain silent, promising that here, they would turn over new leaves. So far, it seemed they were. Though to say the least, most of the men and women aboard Star Tiger had a few glaring eccentricities, for the most part, they were doing quite well. At least from a medical standpoint.

Doctor Jane Franken had met Lestan Darkraven almost thirty years before, when he was still a civilian, and she was just starting her Starfleet career. He came to her, late one night in her laboratory, because, he said, she was the only one he could trust; the only one who might possibly understand. He claimed then, to be a vampire; a dead thing, living off of the blood of his fellow man. She had immediately tried to eject him from the room, only to find him physically immobile. He could not be moved. When she turned to call security, he had called her by her true family name; Frankenstein. There was little choice for her, but to sit and listen. Even in the 24th century, Mary Shelly's book was still a classic. Her family name had been nothing but a pain to her, all her adult life. So, she shortened it, and went into the medical profession, in the footsteps of her family for generations. All this time, the family had been involved in the search for their ancestor's lost secret to eternal life. In seven centuries, none had ever rediscovered it. Jane Franken had been the first, with a real chance. Through her experimentation on a vampire.

What Lestan wanted, she had been hard pressed to provide; a chemical that could alter his structure enough for him to pass unharmed through the light of day. The search had been long, almost ten years, but she finally provided what he had asked for. In turn, he provided her with as many samples, submitted to as many tests as she wanted. The process had been educational for them both. Finally, he had joined Starfleet, now able for the most part, to pass as a normal human being. Except, he still needed blood to survive. But Franken had managed to rig a replicator to create an approximation of blood. Over the years, she had improved it, till what the machine created was indistinguishable from a normal human being's life fluid. At least Lestan couldn't tell the difference (other than a slightly metallic taste, which he said he could live with).

Now, after not having seen Lestan in several years, she was serving on his command. To say that this was going to be an interesting assignment, would be putting it mildly.

The Gorn, Tzardoz fussed with the ship's phasers, lamenting the apparent weakness and liability that he considered them to be. Ship's shields were also on his mind, as they wouldn't have stood up to a modern phaser-drill, let alone a Starship battery. Then, one of Grave's men had contacted him very quietly. He had a chance to acquire a weapons system from an as yet to be built class of Federation starship. A very hush hush project called an "Omega" class star destroyer. Would he be interested? Tzardoz had indicated he would be very interested. He had a rough idea of what the Omega project was about; an ultimate battleship, designed to terrify the Cardassians into backing off of Federation borders and retreating into their own inner systems for protection. He also knew that the Federation High Council would never approve the Starfleet plan. The ship was as good as dead before it ever existed. What would it matter if the few test parts that were being made, vanished unexpectedly?

When the photon torpedo system had arrived, Tzardoz had been in a quandary for a full shift. The machinery had come from a Ferengi vessel, which undoubtable meant it had been purchased from somewhere else. He didn't know where. He had never seen anything quite like what was being installed in the torpedo bay room. It was fully automated, and rigged very neatly in with the new computer core that was being installed. He found out that a certain starbase would be complaining about the lost shipment of their new, base computer system. Oh well, war was hell.

Lia Stronn, ship's counselor, relaxed in her quarters, watching the latest erotic release from her favorite director, Elizabeth Dark. She lounged, naked on her couch and watched the dramatic remake of Beauty and the Beast unfold. Dark had given the ancient story a whole new dimension. Suddenly, her door chimed softly.

"Enter." she called, not giving a thought to her current state of undress.

Thomas Grave entered the room, looking straight down at his PADD. He didn't immediately notice his superior's lack of covering.

"Commander, I didn't see any equipment request on here from you, and I just wanted to check and make sure..." the man had finally looked at the Deltan officer. She smiled, sensing the sudden jump in his blood pressure and the beginnings of an uncomfortableness in his pants.

"That is correct, Ensign. I won't be requiring anything for my job. I thought that you'd probably have enough to do without any requests from me. Besides, I really need very little extra... equipment to do my work efficiently."

"I... I see. Uh, very well Commander. Sorry to disturb you." Grave said, his eyes now wide, his breath coming in short gasps. He was beginning to feel the effects of her overpowering pheromones.

"Not at all, Ensign Grave." she said sweetly, to the retreating man. "Please feel free to stop by anytime."

Grave nodded, holding his PADD in front of his now fully aroused area of discomfort, and backed quickly out the door. The Star Tiger's counselor chuckled gently to herself.

Selon yanked the crude scanning equipment out of the science station and tossed it unceremoniously on the deck. She was not making any bones about her dislike of this assignment, and the ship in general. The one thing that had not come about yet was the advances of her commanding officers. Marius West was, she judged, too old to be moved by her. But the Captain was a different story altogether. He should have been all over her, if past experience held true. As of yet, he had not spoken to her at all, outside of the daily staff meetings and progress reports. He was a strange one indeed, she had decided. Apparently, an insomniac, as she had seen him striding through the ship's corridors at all hours of the day and night. Selon found him to be an intriguing case. One which she was determined to crack.

Gently, she placed the new equipment into the space where the old had been. She was intimately familiar with the design and maintenance of the machinery she was installing, as it had somehow been liberated from a Vulcan deep probe science vessel. Such a ship as she had always dreamed of serving on.

But such a thing would never happen. Could never happen.

As a child, Selon had been given the choice of following her family's heritage or not. Being from an enlightened lineage, she had attended the Federation school near where her father was teaching at the Academy on Vulcan. Long before she was to begin her training, she had met new people and been inundated with new ideas. Thus, when given the choice, she did not want to be any different from the friends she was spending her school time with. She did not want to leave them, as following her ancestral path would require. So, Selon became one of a growing handful of Vulcan children, who did not necessarily follow the dictates of logic and control that were the trademarks of her people. Instead she became more of a cultural hybrid. Human sensibilities and Vulcan abilities. Her perceived beauty did not help her either. To escape the disdain of her relatives, she had joined Starfleet and quickly made a name for herself. Unfortunately, the reputation she earned, was not quite what she had been shooting for.

Delicately, she fitted connections together and wired the new equipment into the computer that had been somehow schemed from under Starfleet's nose. This equipment, backed by the undisputed superiority of the Bynar computer system, were going to put her in a distinctly better research position than she had ever been able to achieve before on her own. It was the one bonus she perceived, from working on the ancient wreck.

Marius West poured over the information he had been able to glean from Starfleet, on his new superior officer. There was information available on Lestan Darkraven before he entered the academy. The Commander had no doubt that it was false. Anyone with the will to dig up the files could readily see how shoddy the background check was. The information listed with had taken some time to check, but he had verified that fact that it was all patently false. There were some records of property and business being owned by a Lestan Darkraven of Miami, Florida on Earth, but some of them went back over one hundred years. He was no handwriting expert, but the signatures on these documents, and current ones on Starfleet file looked very similar to him. There was apparently much more to the young man than met the immediate scrutiny of the eye.

The old man kicked back from his desk in frustration and stood. Grimly, he paced the room, trying to fathom what all this pointed to. A man, appearing to be in his twenties at best, but giving every indication of having been around for at least the last one hundred years or so. More and more peculiar. His door pinged for admittance.

"Come in." he called, still pacing back and forth. The doors swished open, and Lestan Darkraven glided into the room. Marius West was immediately on his guard. It was unearthly at times, the way the young man moved without seeming to move.

"Commander West, I have the currently operating status reports for the ship, I wondered if you would mind going over them with me?" the tall, blond man said absently, sitting down by the desk.

"Certainly, Captain." West replied, abruptly breaking from his pacing and moving to be seated beside his commanding officer.

"As you can see, we are running right on schedule. Thanks to Ensign Grave and his gang of Merry Men, we will be at least marginally operational by the end of the week. At this rate, we might even get to make a shakedown run before tossing the old girl into combat."

West nodded, and looked at the readout on the PADD.

"I'm concerned about some of the things they're bringing on board, though." he said thoughtfully to the younger man. "We have equipment here that is arguably in some cases, totally untested. By the end of the week, Chief O'Mara tells me we're going to have a Romulan Forced Singularity setup, instead of a normal Starfleet antimatter core. We're going to play hell with friendly sensors."

"Agreed, but in the situation we're heading into, a little confusion might not be a bad thing. If we can confuse the Cardassians, I can't see how that would be bad for us."

West smiled. "Very true. Oh, and Captain. I really wouldn't let any of this out. Not even to Admiral Sesok. If this turns out to be what it looks like, I don't think we're meant to succeed on this mission. The brass might be very disgruntled if they realize we're planning on making it back alive."

"You know Commander, the same thought had crossed my mind." Lestan grinned. He had dazzlingly white teeth. Something a bit off about the smile, though. Almost as if he were controlling it for some reason.

"Anything else, Captain?" West returned the smile, standing. He was going to have to talk to somebody on this ship about his suspicions. Perhaps the Counselor. He still had some pull with the Deltan. After all, he had been the only one to speak up on her behalf. Even if it hadn't worked out as they'd wanted it to.

"No. Thank you, Commander. I'll see you on shift at 12 hundred hours?"

"Certainly."

"Til then." the blond man bowed slightly, and vanished out the door. West quickly followed him to the door, which swished open again, so that Marius could peer out. The Captain was nowhere to be seen. The corridor was empty.

Armin Sesok sat in the conference room, aboard the Galaxy class starship Iliad. Andrew Gavrilov, her captain sat across from him. He was not happy.

"Admiral, this is suicide! You can't expect that ship to do anything other than practically self destruct when they take it out. Get her into combat? It will be a miracle if they make it out of the system." The graying, bear of a man argued. Sesok didn't correct him.

"You are missing the point, Andrew. The Star Tiger is meant as a diversionary feint. We already know what her chances are; nil. But she will accomplish her task. We're outfitting her with a copy of your I.D. beacon, and sending her in first. The Cardassians will be drawn away from the planet and move to destroy the Star Tiger, thinking at first that she is you. While they are thus engaged, you will swiftly dart in, invade the installation, rescue our people and download the base computer system. Total time for the operation should be not more than thirty minutes."

Gavrilov shook his head.

"The Star Tiger will be dead in 30 seconds."

"I think you are underestimating her Captain and crew," the older man said calmly, knowing he was lying again, outright.

"I think not. I took the liberty of scanning her crew roster. You should have just designated it a prison ship and gotten it over with. Admiral, some of these people are downright infamous! Thomas Grave is probably the slickest Black Marketeer in Starfleet. Lia Stronn, after sleeping with a plethora of her patients, should have been sent directly back to Delta for a mind wipe and reprogramming. Marius West has to be sixty-nine if he's a day..."

"And what, pray tell, Captain, is wrong with that?" the Admiral asked coolly.

Gavrilov reddened as he realized his blunder.

"I just meant that he's probably too old to be an effective field officer on a starship. He should be behind a desk somewhere."

"We were once field officers too, Andrew. Damn good ones at that. Just because we grew old, doesn't mean we're not effective anymore."

"I think Commander West showed his effectiveness on Sergod II. Wasn't the contamination of an entire pre-interstellar flight culture enough confirmation?" the younger man said firmly.

Sesok shrugged.

"A matter of semantics. I voted that he be commended for that job. He saved an entire civilization. He was presented with a crisis and made his choice. Obey the Prime Directive and watch them all die, or reveal our existence and save an entire world. I think his actions were justified."

Gavrilov looked down at the screen of his terminal.

"Be that as it may, I don't feel right about this."

The Admiral closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Neither do I, Andrew. Neither do I."

"Let me get this straight, Marius. You want to tow the Star Tiger out of drydock and move her to where not even the Fleet is going to know where we are?" Lestan queried, leaning back in the conference room chair. The old man sitting next to him had a grim expression on his face.

"I think it would be well advised. I've just received some information from a friendly source at Fleet headquarters. We're to be used as a diversionary tactic. What Armin Sesok told you was true, but in reverse. We're to be the diversion that allows the Iliad to make it into Cardassian space."

Darkraven sat and digested this bit of news. It gave him a sour stomach.

"So," he said slowly, collecting himself, "your recommendation to move the ship and crew is meant to be a measure to preserve all of us, but outside of Starfleet authority."

"No. Not at all. Well, only temporarily." the gray haired man said, leaning back in his seat. "I believe we can complete the mission, or have an entirely different role in it from what the top Brass intends. At this point, they basically want us there as cannon fodder."

"More like the target for those cannon."

"Exactly."

"So, what do we do?" Lestan sighed, turning his head to gaze out the window.

"We move the ship to a secret location and complete our repairs. We use a scrambled subspace signal to keep in touch with Starfleet, and bounce it around the system for a while, to confused them as to where it's coming from. Then, when we're ready, we make our move."

"Any idea as to what we were supposed to play sitting duck exactly for?"

"As near as I've been able to put together, Starfleet has some hostages that they desperately want free. They're on Delibes, just over the Cardassian border in the Berterent sector. We're supposed to go in headlong, and draw the Cardassian ships off, while another vessel makes the actual rescue run at the planet."

"I see... and we were supposed to...?"

"End up blown to kingdom come by the Cardassian fleet in that sector. That's why we're composed of every undesirable' in the Fleet and saddled with a ship nobody would every deliberately recommission."

The Captain's lower jaw worked slowly. Marius could see the anger building, but it was controlled, with no flush. It was a very pointed and focused anger. The old man was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of it.

"Very well. We're going to change the game plan a little. Get Ensign Grave in here. He's got to know of a smuggler's post we can camp out at and complete repairs. As for moving the ship," here, the tall blond man stood and moved for the door, "I've got two of the most powerful private cruisers made, sitting in the shuttle bay. You and I will drag this old girl to where we've got to go."

"Very good, Sir." West replied, moving to stand and follow his commanding officer.

"Marius," the Captain said, turning back, just as he passed through the door, "We both know who's got the experience commanding in the field here. I see no point in your addressing me as if I were that person. My name is Lestan, and I'll be grateful for any help that you desire to give me."

Marius West looked into the incredible eyes of the young man and nodded curtly. Now he knew how this man was keeping this rag-tag bunch of brigands from mutinying. One look and he inspired loyalty. The old man had no doubt this crew would follow them anywhere they decided to go, whether it was with Starfleet sanction or not.

Thomas Grave sat at Navigation, some three hours later, when West and Darkraven announced their intentions. The Captain had laid it out on the table for the whole crew, sparing them no detail of how Starfleet was prepared to use them and loose them. To say the least, the crew was ready for murder. But Lestan calmed them, and told them they were going to do something even better. They were going to complete the impossible mission that the High Command had saddled them with. They would not fail, and they would not die. Lestan had every intention of having his ship and crew win, and he said he knew they could. For most of the individuals on the Star Tiger, this was the first time in a very long time that anyone had expressed any confidence in them, and any care for them. There was silence for a moment, at the end of Lestan's speech. Then, a low roar built up through the ship. The entire crew was cheering and shouting his name. Marius West looked at the Captain and smiled.

Grave stayed in his seat, while his two commanding officers took to the two shuttle craft. He watched over the viewscreen as they moved into position, one above each of the Star Tiger's huge warp nacelles and they locked onto her with tractor beams. Then, slowly and majestically, for the first time in a century, the grand old lady left her berth and headed for open space. Lieutenant Tzardoz, monitoring communication, heard the frantic calls of the drydock manager, telling them to stop and return to their bay. When they did not, he heard the calls for any Starfleet vessel in the area to come to their aid. Teeth glinting in the bridge light, the Gorn cheerfully jammed their signal, and sent an overload surge across the line, which fried the junkyard facility's communications system. By the time it was repaired, the Star Tiger would be long gone, on their way to where they would be temporarily safe from prying eyes.

Calmly, he fed the coordinates to the old smuggler's base into the two shuttle's guidance computers. West and Darkraven oriented themselves and locked their flight computers to perform maneuvers in close sync. Then, the old ship lurched into warp, towed by the two shuttles, and was gone.

"THEY DID WHAT!" Admiral Sesok roared, jumping up from the seat in his office on Starbase 491.

"Um, apparently Sir, they, ah, stole the ship," Barclay stuttered. The man never was any good under pressure.

"Nobody tried to stop them?"

"There was no chance, Sir. There were no ships in the yard operating to go after them. The Star Tiger somehow destroyed their communications system. The dock foreman said that two DeVass shuttles towed the whole ship into warp and took off."

Sesok looked grimly at his aid.

"Barclay, find them. I don't care how, just find them."

The Commander nodded and walked briskly out of the Admirals office. He was covered in a cold sweat. Now the rough job fell to him.

"Shuttle Maharet to Star Tiger."

"Star Tiger. Yes Captain?" Tzardoz asked, standing at parade rest near his station.

"How do we seem to be holding up?"

"Sensor sweeps of the ship's superstructure show no signs of undue stress or metal fatigue," Selon called, her delicate hands flying quickly across the controls of her station's new instrumentation.

"Any signs of pursuit?" the Captain's ghost of a French accent drifted across the bridge.

"None, Sir." Ensign Kiko Todesku chimed in, sitting beside Ensign Grave at Navigation.

"So far, so good. Are we sure this base is deserted, Mr. Grave?"

"I, uh... checked with some people that I know. They assure me there will be no problem with our being there. As long as we mind our own business, nobody's nose will be in ours." the rough looking man replied, smirking.

"Thank you, Ensign. Well, I put out ETA at 13:25 hours. If anything comes up, you know where I am."

"Yes Sir."

Tzardoz moved down to the command chair and sat. Quietly, he checked over the shoulders of Todesku and Grave, doing his own survey of the ship's status. Satisfied, he leaned back and stared at the viewscreen and the starfield moving by. He judged their speed at about warp five. Supposedly, the transwarp engines they were outfitted with had been able to transcend the warp 9.9 limit and pass beyond, into some theoretical speed. It had never been adequately explained in the old texts that he had seen. O'Mara had said it looked like they were opening some sort of crude hole into subspace and transmitting the ship through. As communication through subspace was practically instantaneous, so would passage be for an entire ship. The one drawback was, the enormous amounts of power necessary to push solid objects through the dimension. That's why the whole idea of transwarp drives had been discarded. They worked, but were horrendously impractical.

"Lieutenant." Selon said quietly, turning from her station.

"Yes?"

"I'm monitoring a distress beacon, from a ship at extreme range. It appears to be an ore carrier."

"Lieutenant, I'm now receiving a distress signal from the vessel." Todesku stated.

"Put it on audio."

A heavily accented voice came over the bridge speakers, talking firmly, and calmly.

This is the Telluride freighter Steller. We need assistance. Our antimatter core shielding is failing. Can anyone hear us? I repeat, this is the Telluride...

Tzardoz looked grimly about the bridge.

"Get me the Captain."

On board the Maharet, Captain Darkraven digested the news. Commander West was crosslinked into the conversation.

"Well, what do you think?" the blond man asked his first officer.

"We can't ignore them. If we do, they die."

"But what can we do to help them?"

"Get O'Mara on the line."

There was a moment's silence as the Star Tiger made the necessary connections.

Engineering. O'Mara.

"Chief, we've got a problem."

Don't we all. What's yours?

"Telluride freighter needs help. We're the only ones within earshot."

There was silence.

Weeeeeeeelll, I haven't installed the new power source yet. We're still drawing off the antimatter core that was put in here a century ago. I might be able to coax enough energy out of it for a short TransWarp jump. But we're going to be sad sacks afterward.

"Meaning?"

Emergency reserve power and not much else, til we hook up to the power source in that dry-dock.

"Enough power to operate the transporters for emergency beam out?"

Yes. If it's not a crew of five-hundred.

"How many people on board the freighter, Lieutenant Selon?"

"Crew manifest says thirty total." the Vulcan woman's voice came flatly into the conversation.

Lestan sat debating for a moment, them began to run his hands across the controls of his ship.

"Reel them in, Marius. It's time to do a good deed. Lieutenant Tzardoz, notify the vessel in distress that we're on our way."

If a lipless lizard could smile, the Gorn would have been grinning from ear to ear.

"Telluride freighter Steller, this is the Federation ship Star Tiger. We are on our way. Expect us momentarily."

Star Tiger, this is Steller. We don't have you on our sensors, how far away are you? We don't have much time. We have coolant leaks, and Engineering's been flooded with lethal gas. the voice was no longer quite so calm as it had been.

"Prepare your crew for emergency beam out. We will be at your position momentarily." the Gorn repeated.

"Sensors show shuttle craft Maharet and Pointe-du-Lac on board." Selon said, turning to the command chair.

"Chief O'Mara, are you ready?" Tzardoz asked, gripping the armrest of the captain's chair.

"As ready as I can be."

"Ahead, TransWarp factor 4."

There was a noise, which built slowly. It sounded like some great beast which had awakened and was yawning. Then, there was a jerk, that they felt throughout the entire ship.

"We have entered TransWarp." Ensign Grave said quietly, keeping an eye on the readings coming from Engineering.

"Selon, keep scanning the superstructure for any problems." The Gorn said, looking forward at the viewscreen. The picture presented there was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Stars seemed to twist and turn. Whole galaxies spiraled seemingly out of control, pell mel across their viewing field. What they saw made no sense at all to the naked eye. Tzardoz found it extremely disquieting.

"Main viewscreen off." he ordered, feeling his stomach start to spiral like the picture on the screen.

At that moment, the Captain and Commander both burst onto the bridge from the turbolift. They caught a glimpse of the starfield as it faded out. Lestan looked ill, and Marius West turned white. They noticed that the bridge crew who had seen the phenomenon were experiencing trouble too.

"Well now," Commander West said, following the Captain down to stand next the command chair, "isn't that special?"

"Status report, Lieutenant Tzardoz?" Darkraven asked, moving to take the seat as the Gorn got up.

"Ship's systems approximating normal. We're due at the sight right about now."

As he said the words, the viewscreen came back on, and the spinning slowed, stopped and resolved itself into a very old, ratty looking freighter. Suddenly a voice was speaking very excitedly over the bridge speakers.

Star Tiger! You're here! How? Our sensors did not detect your approach!

"Ummm, secret weapon. New Technology." the Captain mumbled, "Prepare for emergency beam out."

We are ready Captain.

"Darkraven to transporter room four. Is the cargo transport ready?"

Up and running Cap'n. a voice came back, doing a very convincing imitation of a pirate.

"Energize."

They watched, as seconds later, the aft area of the freighter began to throw off flares of energy and glow dangerously.

"Shields!" Lestan barked.

"Shields operating at only fifty-four percent." Selon called, manipulating her console and the engineering console simultaneously.

"Will that be enough?" West asked. Looking worriedly at the young man seated in the chair.

Lestan gritted his teeth.

"It will have to be."

Engineering here. I think I can squeeze a bit more out of the core. I'm going to shut down power to everything except life support and sensors. O'Mara's voice sounded sharp, for a change. As if for the first time, the dreamer was fully awake.

"Then do it, Chief." West ordered.

The old ship shuddered once again, slowly began to turn and run away from the exploding vessel. They seemed to be moving at a crawl.

"Chief..."

I'm working on it!

The entire hull of the ore carrier began to pulse ominously, with a deadly glow.

"Chief!"

GOT IT!

As the freighter went up in a blinding blast, the Star Tiger hiccupped, and jumped into TransWarp.

"Admiral, a message just in from Starbase 919. A Telluride crew was just dropped off there, victims of a warp core breech." Barclay said, walking unannounced into Sesok's office.

"Yes?"

"They claim they were rescued by a new prototype Federation starship."

"What have we got operating out there?" the Admiral asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Nothing from the Development Division. But that's not the least of it."

"Yes?"

"They say the name of the ship that rescued them, was Star Tiger.'"

The old man leaned forward in his seat.

"Do tell."

"The Captain of the Telluride vessel claims the Star Tiger didn't appear on their screens as even being in the sector. The next minute they were there and being beamed off of the ship."

"O'Mara got the TransWarp drive working."

"Galen O'Mara? Uh, Sir, Galen O'Mara wasn't able to keep his mind on his classes at the academy, let alone concentrate enough to fix a TransWarp drive. We were classmates."

"Boredom does not necessarily denote stupidity, Commander. Albert Einstein flunked first grade and still managed to come up with the theory of Relativity." the Admiral grinned, rising from his chair.

"Surely Sir, you're not going to compare O'Mara to Einstein!"

"Whatever get the job done Commander, that's all that counts, in the end. "

"Yes Sir."

Are we there yet? Lestan asked, leaning over his shuttle console, and whispering closely into the mike. On board the Star Tiger, the entire bridge crew jumped at the volume of their CO's voice.

"Uh, almost, sir. We should be in sight within the hour." Ensign Grave said, wiggling his little finger in his ear.

Good.

Tzardoz sat in the command chair and looked over the bridge crew's shoulders. The only one he didn't check up on was Lieutenant Selon. He got the distinct impression that the Vulcan would hit him if he got too close to her. So he made especially sure to keep his distance.

He heard the lift doors grind open and shut behind him, and turned to find the Doctor standing beside him. He nodded in respect.

"Hello, tall, green and scaly. When are you coming down to sickbay for a physical?" the gray haired woman asked cheerily.

The Gorn officer coughed and started to reply. He was stopped by the woman prying apart his jaws and looking intently down his throat.

"I don't like the sound of that. May have to remove your tonsils." she murmured, her head practically in the Lieutenant's mouth. He shook himself out of her grasp, and ignoring the titters of the other bridge officers, he glared at the woman.

"I am fine. You do not have to remove my..." he paused, thinking before continuing to speak, "Doctor, my species does not even have tonsils!"

"That's okay Tzardoz. I'm sure I can find some other useless bit to remove. Report to sickbay for you physical as soon as we dock."

"Yes, Doctor Franken." the Gorn sighed. He turned as the woman left, and glared at the bridge crew, who were all looking at him. They spun and went back to their respective jobs. All except the Vulcan, who continued to look at the Gorn, an open smirk on her face.

"What is it that you find so humorous, Lieutenant?"

"I was just recalling an old Earth rhyme that I had heard from some friends in my youth."

"And that would be?"

"Well... it went something like... Jane and Tzardoz, sitting in a tree, K... I... S... S... I... N..."

"THAT will be quite enough, Lieutenant!" the Gorn barked, trying to drown out the childish nonsense that the woman was reciting.

The crew broke out in outright laughter. He glared at the woman in undisguised annoyance.

"Lieutenant Selon," he hissed through his pointy, extremely sharp teeth, "you make a poor Vulcan."

The Science Officer turned, looked him in the eye, and stuck out her tongue.

**That's all for now! Thanks for reading! Comments welcomed. Peace!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What is this place?!?" Marius West whispered to no one in particular. He gazed out the viewport of the shuttle in undisguised awe, as they moved toward the dark and silent structure. Without a doubt, it was the biggest free-floating drydock facility that he had ever seen. It dwarfed even the shipyards where the giant Galaxy class vessels were built.

"Well," Thomas Grave replied, over the comm link, "nobody's exactly sure. The smugglers found it a hundred years ago or so, and have been using it ever since. The interesting thing about this place is, it's more or less considered safe ground.' Everyone comes here to repair and rest, and there's no fighting. Hell, why should there be? The place is so damn big I don't believe it's ever fully been mapped."

"And your... friends agreed to let us dock here and finish the refit?" the Captain asked, jumping in on the conversation.

"Actually, this is more convenient. I was having a bit of a problem getting them to bring the equipment into a Starfleet depot. Nobody'll have a problem delivering here; this is holy ground." The black marketeer grinned.

"Very good Ensign." Lestan laughed. "Now, I guess we're going to have to dock manually, correct?"

"Uh, not if it's like the last time I was here. Just wait."

Lieutenant Tzardoz sat quietly in the command chair, listening to the conversation. He turned and looked to Selon.

"Anything on sensors?"

"A myriad of things. What in particular would you like to hear about?"

"Any other ships?" the Gorn asked, sharply.

"Several, but they all seem to be cloaked in some way. I can read that they are there, but not pinpoint their location." the Vulcan woman frowned.

"That's another feature of Fliegende Hollander Station, she wraps you up and keeps you warm." Grave interjected.

"The Flying Dutchman Station?" Lestan laughed.

"Yeah, complete with a mysterious Captain that directs all operations."

"You mean someone inhabits the station?" West asked sharply.

"That might be a good way to put it. Then again, maybe not. You'll see what I mean in a minute." Grave chuckled.

At that moment, the three ships rocked, as if a hand had gently reached out and grasped them.

"A tractor beam has locked onto us. We are being pulled into a berth." Selon announced, monitoring her console.

"Greetings, weary Travelers. Welcome to Fliegende Hollander Station." a voice boomed over the bridge speakers.

"There are very few rules here, but the few that we have are absolute. No fighting, no stealing while you are here, and no revealing the existence of this outpost to the outside world. Now, I see by your ID beacon that you are a Federation ship. The USS Iliad, I believe?"

Everyone on the bridge looked at each other at the same instant.

"No. We are the USS Star Tiger, an Excelsior class vessel."

"Hmmmmm." the voice puzzled, "Then why are you flying another ship's ID beacon?"

"We didn't know we were!" Lestan growled in irritation. Apparently Starfleet had been able to slip one or more things by him before they made their escape. "Lieutenant, disable that beacon and reprogram it with the correct ID."

"Ah well, whatever." the voice continued cheerily, "We haven't seen an Excelsior class vessel here in some time."

"That's because this tub's sixty years out of date." Grave snorted, his hands flying across the navigation console, setting the ship's docking ports open and extending auto-feed lines to hook into the bay's power systems.

"Ship is docked," Selon said.

"And locked." Grave finished.

"Have a pleasant stay!" the voice added, and was gone.

"Lets bring the shuttles in, Marius." the Captain said, anxious to be back on the bridge of his ship.

"Acknowledged." the older man grunted, detaching his craft from the Star Tiger's warp nacelle. Gracefully, the two smaller ships whirled about, few down, under and into the ship's shuttle bay.

"Well," Lestan asked, as he stepped out, next to the Commander, "what do you think?"

West smiled darkly and shook his head.

"I reserve judgment til we know more about the situation. I think we should put a security crew on bug detail."

"Bug detail?"

"Just in case some wonderful person at Fleet Headquarters had the foresight to attach a homing beacon to us somewhere."

"Ah. Go right ahead." the blond man nodded.

"Good. I'll meet you on the bridge later." the other man said, turning to rush out the door.

"Marius, is something wrong?"

"Hmmm?" the gray haired commander paused, "No, not really. I just have to use the facilities VERY badly. Bye!"

Lestan Darkraven laughed for a full five minutes before he could calm himself enough to move out the door.

Jane Franken was in her lab, examining yet another cell sample donated by Lestan. Currently, she was working on experiment number ten thousand, two hundred and forty three. With the same result, as the previous ones. She could alter but slightly the nature of the cells. On some fundamental level, possibly at sub-atomic, the flesh had been

changed. Her years of study had given her only the slimmest glimpses into vampiric structure. She was half afraid that what she was dealing with, could not actually be qualified by medical science. Maybe there was something beyond pure rational thought, something that she would never be able to identify. But there was still so much to learn. She bent over the electron-microscope. Perhaps a different spectrum. Then a higher magnification. Behind her, the office door buzzed for attention.

"It's open! Come in or get the hell outta here." she growled loudly.

The door swooshed open and shut behind her, and a heavy footstep stopped several paces away.

"I am here for my physical, Doctor, as you have ordered." Rumbled Tzardoz.

The middle aged, human woman turned to appraise the giant reptile.

"You know, Greenie," she said, walking up and patting him on his bony, lizard-like cheek, "I wish all my patients were as easy to buffalo as you."

"Buffalo? What does a..."

"Never mind. A figure of speech. Drop your drawers and climb up on the scanner. We'll get this done as quickly as possible."

Calmly, the Gorn undressed, dropping his uniform neatly on the office chair, and sat quietly on the table. Like a very few other species, the Gorn had no cultural taboo about nudity. They could take clothes or leave them; it was a matter of functionality for them and nothing else. Truth to tell, it was very unlikely that they had a fashion sense' at all.

"Lie back and relax." Franken ordered, walking by and shoving the huge lizard-being down onto the diagnostic bed. She waved a hand held scanner over him, and then swung the table top mechanism from its hooks, til it hovered over him. There was a quiet hum and a soft glow, which played over his muscular body. Behind him, on a wall screen, a detailed map of his physiology was projected.

"Okay. Looks like our motor neural transmitters are firing on all cylinders." she fiddled with the instrument a bit and zeroed in more closely on the genetic manipulation she had done. "Mmmmmmhmmmm. Beautiful work, if I do say so myself."

"I would be glad to give you public credit, Doctor..."

"THAT'S okay, Greenie. I don't feel like spending any more time in the klink for helping people. Starfleet Command has already made it clear that they frown on unauthorized genetic manipulation. So, I'll keep it quiet, if you don't mind."

"As you will, Doctor."

"Thanks. Preciate that."

There was silence for a few moments as Jane Franken finished taking her readings. Then, she whacked the large alien on the stomach.

"Well, the prelims look good. Get up and get dressed. You can go. If I find anything bad upon further examination, I'll call you and let you know."

"Very well, Doctor. Thank you."

"Yer welcome, now get outta here."

The Gorn quickly and efficiently slipped into his uniform and scooted out the door. He nearly bumped into Lia Stronn coming in.

"Pardon, Commander." The Gorn said, squeezing past the voluptuous Deltan officer.

"Certainly, Lieutenant." she purred, brushing his chest with her hand. The tall lizard flushed an even deeper shade of green, nodded and hurried off down the corridor. The bald counselor laughed quietly and entered Sickbay.

"Doctor Franken," she called, standing near the door, "I'm here

for my physical."

The older woman's head peered out from around her office doorway. She started when she saw the Deltan standing there.

"Uh oh." she mumbled to herself, leaving the office, "better break out the penicillin."

**----------------------------------------------------------------------**

Kiko Todesku backflipped her way across the holodeck, and planted a foot very firmly into the groin of a Romulan guard. The artificial figure groaned audibly and fell writhing to the floor. She spun and slammed the butt of her hand up into the nose of the guard's companion. This one cursed and staggered back, but did not fall. Grimly, she surged toward him before he could draw his phaser and grabbed him by both of his ears. He screamed in pain as she wrenched his head down to meet her knee. The second guard lay unconscious, but had gotten out that cry of pain. The door they had been guarding flew open, and a squad of Romulan assassins poured out. She groaned, and took a running leap back in the direction from which she had come. Hearing the whine of phasers, the small oriental woman began to vary the pattern of her backflips and switched to running. She dove around a corner, and pulled a concussion grenade from her belt. She waited til the sounds of the running assassins were almost on top of her before she threw the little device around the corner. There was total silence for a second, then someone screamed...

"RETREAT!"

Then, the grenade detonated. She peered around the corner to see unconscious Romulans lying everywhere. Demurrly, she stood, and picked her way through the prone bodies, back down the corridor to the door. With a smile she palmed the door open, and was hit by a phaser blast. She flew backward and fell, numbed, but not unconscious. She eyed the doorway in shock, as an unplanned part of her program stepped out. Lieutenant Selon. The Vulcan woman looked embarrassed.

"Pardon, Ensign, but I did not realize that you would be beyond this doorway, when I entered your simulation. Please, let me help you up." Selon walked over and helped the rapidly recovering ops officer to her feet.

"Uh, that's okay Lieutenant. I was probably getting a bit too cocky for my own good anyway. I can't believe that defeating Romulans would be so easy in real life."

"But the holodeck is designed to provide as lifelike experience as

possible."

"Yes, but real Romulans wouldn't be so stupid as to chase a person down a hall and around a corner. They'd scan first to see that I was laying in wait for them."

"True." the science office nodded, "But still, it is good training. Oh, by the way, I believe the victims of your grenade are starting to awaken."

Kiko turned to see several assassins shaking their heads and rising.

"Computer, end program." she sighed, turning away from her creations.

"Please, don't let me disturb your recreation." Selon said, a slight smile playing across her mouth.

"Oh, you haven't. I've just had enough for today, I think. Time to rest, and then back to the bridge."

"So," Selon asked, as the two of them exited the Holodeck, "what do you think of our Captain?"

The smaller woman shrugged.

"Hard to tell. A strange one though, no doubt about that. I think he's an insomniac."

The Vulcan nodded.

"I have also noticed his lack of need for sleep. Actually, I have been keeping a log of his activities on board this ship. He has not been in his cabin for more than thirty minutes at any given time."

"You mean he hasn't slept in over two weeks?"

"That is what my data seems to indicate. Yet he has been nothing, if not alert. One does not expect that of a habitual insomniac."

"Stranger and stranger."

"What is, Ladies?"

The two women turned to find their commander standing behind them, hands clasped behind his back and a twinkle in his eye.

"Um, nothing, Sir!" Kiko squeaked, suddenly seeming to shrink to an even smaller size. Selon looked at her in amusement.

"We were discussing the Captain, Commander West." she said. Kiko threw her an evil look.

"Oh? What about our resident mystery man?" the former Admiral asked, leaning easily against the wall.

"Well, just that he is quite a mystery."

"Not if you know where to look for information, Ladies. Care to trade stories over a drink in The Lone Star?" the elder man asked, offering each woman an arm.

Selon, rather than being annoyed as was the usual case in such occurrences between herself and her commanding officers, found that she was more than slightly intrigued to see exactly what information the Commander had gotten on Lestan Darkraven. She accepted the arm. Kiko, seeing that her companion was apparently comfortable, threw in her lot with the little group. Then, they were off.

**---------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Galen O'Mara hummed to himself, as he directed his crew in the removal of the old matter-antimatter reaction chamber. There was an established, standard procedure in the technical manuals for such an operation, which involved safety controls and energy damping baffles and all manner of extraneous equipment. Of course, Galen had long ago

figured out the shortcuts, and was now in the position to put them to the test. A job that Starfleet said was impossible to begin with (the integration of a Romulan Forced Singularity White Dwarf core, with an ancient Federation design of TransWarp drive), which should have taken weeks, was taking just over a week and a half. The majority of the time was going to be in the fine tuning of the power transfers and running simulation programs for energy consumption curves. Just because he liked to find quicker ways of solving impossible problems, didn't mean he didn't do the work. There were some things that even he wouldn't skip over. The Romulan power core was smaller, and heavier that the old antimatter unit that they were removing, and he was already working out plans in his head for what equipment he intended to cram into the empty spaces. With the Captain funding everything out of his own pocket, O'Mara felt there was no limit to what he could

possibly coax the old girl into doing. The options were endless. He could even see breaking speed records in the Excelsior class ship. Papers would be written about him and his revolutionary techniques. He shook himself. No time for dreaming. He had to keep his mind on the job at hand.

"Commander O'Mara, we don't have a power coupling that'll fit this connection." an Ensign said, holding up the ends of two very different cables.

"Well then, we do it the old fashioned way." the dreamer sighed, walking over to where the kid stood. Deftly, he took out a laser cutter and sliced off the ends of both cables. Then he proceeded to hand weld each wire back together, joining the Romulan and Federation technologies into one. When it was finished, he reached into one of several deep pockets he had sewn on his uniform, and pulled out a roll of black tape. Efficiently, he wrapped several times around the joint juncture and cut the tape. Then, he handed the joined cables back to the Ensign.

"Got the general idea?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Go to it."

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Any word, Commander?" Armin Sesok asked, as a very haggardlooking Barclay entered his office. The man sat heavily in a chair and shook his head.

"No Sir. It's as if they just vanished. No reports, no further sightings. Maybe Captain Gavrilov was right. Maybe they just blew up when they tried to leave the system."

The Admiral smiled.

"No... I don't think so. Darkraven and West are individually, very resourceful men. Together, they can probably accomplish miracles, I would imagine. No, I think that they're going to turn up again quite soon." as he finished speaking, a light blinked insistently on his desk. He smack it in some small annoyance.

"Yes?"

"Admiral, I have a priority one, incoming call for you. Encoded, and sent subspace blip."

"Put it through." the admiral motioned to Barclay to get up and move to where he could see the screen, but not be seen. On the little terminal, a picture flickered, sputtered and came finally into clarity. It was Lestan Darkraven sitting on the bridge of

the Star Tiger.

"Greetings, Admiral Sesok. Just dropping you a line to let you know we're alright and that we're still looking forward to our mission." the young man smiled ironically.

He knows, the older man thought.

"Captain, just where the hell are you?" he asked sternly, motioning for Barclay to trace the transmission.

"Oh, we're at a private facility, finishing our repairs. We'll be one hundred percent operational by the end of this week. I'll call you back at that time for our final instructions."

"One minute, Captain Darkraven. I'm going to have to insist you tell me exactly where you are. That's Starfleet property you're running around the quadrant in and I'm obliged to answer for it if it's lost."

The picture began to fuzz and flip as the Admiral finished his order, and through the interference, the two men could just hear the speaker's voice;

"What's that Admiral? Please repeat. I couldn't hear you. It's this antique communications system."

"You heard me Darkraven! Now..." the older man was interrupted by a burst of static and the screen going dark.

"Sorry Sir," his aid's voice came over the comm link, "we seem to have lost them."

Sesok sat back and smiled.

"Sure we did. The bugger cut me off."

"Admiral, it certainly seemed that the transmission broke up..."

"Trust me, Commander. I've pulled that same stunt before, in my youth. Just slowly throw the signal off frequency, til it gets lost. Nothing to it. I don't suppose you managed to get a fix on where they were transmitting from?"

"Uh, sorry Sir. They bounced the signal off some very isolated satellites. I'm afraid they could have been anywhere inside a dozen different systems." the Commander said, regretfully.

"No matter. We'll be hearing from them again. I'm sure." The Admiral smiled. Suddenly, this distasteful affair was starting to look a little more even sided.

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The Lone Star Bar, was a converted cargo bay that the Captain had designated as a recreation area for the crew. Since the Excelsior class vessels had not come with a place designated to fill such a social activity as drinking and carousing, Lestan thought it prudent, under the circumstance, to invent one rather quickly. Not yet completely finished, the Lone Star was nevertheless in full swing. A band played off to one side of the room, and Starfleet personnel who were off duty doubled as waiters and bartenders. This night, the place was hopping. It was wall to wall people, and all were interested about the place they were docked in, and what their eventual mission would be. It cause no small ripple in the crowd, when the doors swished open and Marius West entered, escorting two very attractive women. They swept through the crowd and commandeered a table at the back of the room, that was secluded and offered a good view of the rest of the bar. Quickly and quietly, the three slid in around the table. The Commander motioned for a waiter, who immediately came over to take their orders.

"I'll have a scotch, neat." the older man grinned.

"A Shirley Temple!" Kiko said brightly.

"Water." Selon said blandly. The other two looked at her as if they had been slapped. The Vulcan looked back and forth between the two stares and finally sighed.

"Oh, very well. I shall have a shot of tequila. Bring the bottle back, please."

Now the stare was of a totally different nature.

"Well, Commander? I believe you mentioned something about pooling information on our Captain?" The Vulcan woman asked, picking the older man's eyes to lock with.

"Ah. Yes indeed I did." he grinned, leaning back in the seat, and throwing his arms out, across the backs of the bench. "Our Captain is a very interesting individual indeed. I have spent my off duty hours for the last couple of weeks, doing some very intensive investigation of his background. On first glance, he looks normal. But if we dig

just a little bit, we find some very fertile dirt." he stopped as the waiter came back and passed out their drinks.

"And?!" Kiko pressed.

"As far as I can tell, Lestan Darkraven has money squirreled away all over Earth. Every major banking institution has an account that is linked to this man in some way or another. He has wealth beyond imagining."

"Very well. The man is exceedingly rich. What of it?" the Vulcan asked, pausing to slug down her shot of tequila and refill her glass. Marius pause in astonishment to watch.

"Uh, yes. Well, the money. It's old money. I mean very old money. I can trace the name Lestan Darkraven back for almost five centuries. After that, or maybe it's before that? the name changes to something similar. But my point is this. The signatures are the same. I asked for stored copies of bank receipts from the late 20th century, and the signatures match that of our present day man." the Commander sat back triumphantly.

The two women stared at him uncomprehendingly.

"Do you see what I'm driving at, ladies? This man, our Captain, may be well over five centuries old!"

Selon sat back and digested the information. Kiko just stared at the Commander in disbelief.

"That's impossible." the oriental woman said, finally, "I mean, somebody would have caught that long ago, wouldn't they?"

"Possibly not. I mean none of this is obvious, unless you are actually looking for it. It is quite possible that no one ever had a reason to suspect anything of Lestan Darkraven before. He covers his tracks tolerably well. The farther back I went, the more obtuse the trail became. I'm afraid time itself has wiped out a whole host of clues that might have better advised us as to what exactly we're dealing with here."

Selon slugged another shot of tequila and looked at Marius.

"Do we really need to know?"

The Commander looked puzzled.

"Lieutenant, you were as curious about our mysterious Captain as I."

"True. But sometimes, in the course of finding out the truth, you begin to realize that maybe you would be better off without it. This man is moving heaven and Earth to see that this group of misfits and criminals has a chance to succeed and survive. Frankly, at this point I couldn't care if he was the living incarnation of the Christian concept of evil. He's doing something that no one else has done for me. He's giving me a chance." the Vulcan woman stood, and collected the bottle of tequila in one hand. "Thank you Commander, for sharing with us. I would advise however, that you cease your investigation and do not spread what you do know among the rest of the crew. I believe

at this point that it would be counter-productive. Good Evening."

The two people watched the woman wind her way through the dense crowd and out the door, still clutching the bottle of synthenol.

"I wonder what the hell has gotten into her?" Kiko murmured.

West smiled, "That, Ensign, was as pure an example of loyalty to one's commander officer as I have ever seen. And I wager, if you look up Selon's record, you'll find it's the first time she's ever expressed such a sentiment."

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Lestan sat in his room, quietly meditating. He no longer had to sleep during the day, but for the last couple of weeks, he had not been able to sleep at night either. Mentally, he was closing in quickly on exhaustion. By clearing his mind of as much as he could for a few minutes each day, he managed to keep ahead of the fatigue. But he couldn't for much longer. Even an immortal brain needed to sleep sometimes. So deep in meditation was he, that he didn't hear his door chime til the third time. Somebody wanted to see him quite badly.

"Enter." he called, not moving from his position. The door swished open, and Lia Stronn entered the room. Lestan clamped down on his mind, seeing that it was his ship's counselor. It would not do to have her picking any secret out of his tired brain.

"Hello, Captain. I haven't gotten to talk to you yet on a one to one basis, and I thought now might be an acceptable time?"

"Certainly, Counselor! Have a seat." the tall man smiled warmly and climbed quickly to his feet.

"Thank you, Sir." the voluptuous Deltan woman undulated across the room and sat, curled up on one end of the couch. For a moment, Lestan was lost in wondering about some very inappropriate things. The counselor smiled.

"There's only one way to find out."

The blond man shook himself and moved to a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry. I should have better control of my hormones at this age."

"That's quite alright Sir." the woman smiled impishly, "I'm used to the reactions by now."

"Ah, indeed. Well, what was it that you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Well, everything. There's crew conflicts to talk about, the idiocyncracies of your officers, the mission at hand, that formidable mental shield you just happen to be slapping me around with..."

Lestan laughed gently, lowered and shook his head.

"I'm very sorry, Lia. Normally, I'm not quite so rude."

"That's alright, Captain. Anything I can help you resolve?" the woman purred, fixing him with a stare that would raise the dead.

"Alas, ma cheri, I seriously doubt it." he grinned wryly, "Even the father of your profession, on Earth Sigmund Freud couldn't psychoanalyze me."

"We don't know if we don't try."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Now, as to the other points of your discussion...?"

The Counselor looked at her Captain reprovingly.

"Your crew practically worships the ground you walk on. I don't mind telling you, that considering the checkered past of most of these people, their following anybody with this type of devotion is unheard of."

Lestan smiled again.

"Everyone starts for me with a clean slate. I do not care who you were, or what you did before. It is immaterial to me. All these people needed was that chance. Everybody wants the opportunity to start their lives over again. With me, they have. It is no great secret. This is a good crew. I would stack my people up against anything the Fleet has to offer. In fact, we may just end up doing that."

Stronn nodded, playing with a dressing tab on her uniform. The motion did not go unnoticed by Darkraven, but he did studiously ignore it.

"Now, your command crew. I have never seen such a screwed up grouping of misfits in all my years as a counselor..."

"Ah, ah, ah. Careful, Commander. We can't afford to be labeling those crewmen who are going to save so many lives." the man smirked,

"Even though that's not what they were meant to do."

"Sorry, Sir. It's just that this is one of the strangest mixes of people I've ever had to minister to."

Lestan nodded.

"I understand completely. Believe me, I do."

"It seems most of the command crew have been ostracized for behavior outside of the norm. I believe that when the meat of this situation comes around, I'm really going to have my hands full!"

"Indeed. Behavior outside of the norm?"

"Former Admiral West. Violation of the prime directive. An offense usually found punishable by a complete removal of rank and imprisonment in the stockade. The only reason he didn't get that punishment was because of the nature of the crime."

"That, and calling in a lot of favors. Besides, when the planet found out he was being prosecuted for saving their lives, they threw a fit. I imagine Starfleet command found it rather overwhelming to have an entire planet reading them the riot act." the blond man chuckled, rocking back and forth gently in his seat.

"Then, there is Lieutenant Commander O'Mara."

"Hmmmmm. A brilliant engineer."

"So I understand. But also an incurable dreamer."

"Yes. But I like a person with dreams. One like Galen comes along only rarely. He dreams, yes, but he also has the drive and knowledge to make his dreams become reality. No one else in Starfleet would even try to do the things with the Star Tiger that he's doing."

"But will his flights of fantasy work? I am as trained in the field as any Officer must be in this area; I don't mind telling you, that I'm very skeptical about these... modifications."

Lestan shrugged.

"So am I. But this is his area of expertise, and I am not able to make the situation any better in so short a period of time as we have. Therefore, I must leave it up to the person who has at least a chance. Let us all hope that Mr. O'Mara's dreams become reality."

"Lieutenant Tzardoz, then."

"What of him? He has no direct blight on his record that I saw. He's arguably seen as one of the finest security officers in the fleet."

"He doesn't interact well with humans."

"Your point? Neither did some of the first Andorians or Klingons, or even Vulcans for that matter. It just takes time."

"And a certain finesse of the system that Tzardoz will not learn himself, nor tolerate in others. He sees duty as the end all and be all."

"Yes, and I see him as the strongest link in my chain of command; my, unshakable rock, if you will."

Stronn adjusted her position on the couch, letting the tab of her tunic fall open to reveal the slopes of her ample breasts. Lestan again noticed, but had no visible reaction.

"Lieutenant Selon."

"Another fine example of an officer."

"Intractable. Hard to deal with. Unwillingness to follow orders."

"Certainly, for more often than not the order was, Meet me in my cabin for dinner!'" the Captain argued.

"Like it hasn't happened to anyone before?"

"Such harassment is a very personal thing, Commander. And if you will, I cannot condemn the woman for defending herself. According to her personal reports, she never did any more than refuse these advances. They invariable always resulted in her quick transfer. She's guilty of nothing more than defending her own integrity."

"Alright, what about Dr. Jane Franken. Or shall we just say Doctor Frankenstein?" the Deltan woman sat up straight, as if closing in for the kill. Lestan looked at her blankly.

"That is classified information, Commander. I don't believe you legally had access to it."

"Whether I did or not should really be besides the point. This woman is a direct descendant of a madman, and was herself imprisoned for trying to resurrect his experiments. I cannot help but ask myself what else she may be doing on this ship. What she is experimenting with? Who upon?"

"I hardly think the good doctor will be experimenting upon anyone without their express permission." Lestan said quietly, getting up from the couch and walking to the alcove where his food processor was.

"Can I get you anything, Counselor?"

"A glass of red wine would be wonderful, Captain."

"While on duty? Tsk, tsk Commander." Lestan chided and turned to the replicator. "A glass of Chateau de Brione, nineteen sixty-five. Room temperature."

"Mmmmm. Excellent choice. I didn't know the pattern was available for it! Usually They keep anything that old off the replicator, so the price will stay unbelievably high."

"They did. I bought a bottle and had the thing scanned. Along with many other very expensive, and fine vintages." Lestan smiled and brought her a delicately carved glass of deep red wine. She smiled and accepted it gracefully.

"What about you? Am I going to drink alone?"

The Captain tensed for a moment and smiled.

"My apologies. I am currently on a cleansing fast, so I cannot partake. Rest assured it gives me no offense if you drink in front of me."

The Deltan shrugged, sipping delicately at the wine.

"So," she asked, placing the glass on an end table near her couch,

"How about you, Captain? What mysterious secrets does the blond human possess?"

A dark look passed over Lestan's face as he sat back down on the couch. He knew that his control was eroding, and that if the inquisitive woman stayed much longer, his secret was going to be out. He feigned a daze.

"Captain? Captain are you well?" she asked, leaning forward to touch him gently on the hand. His flesh of course, seemed icy to the touch. She recoiled as he came to himself again.

"I'm sorry, Counselor. I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I fade out every so often. I guess I just need to lay down for a few hours." he lied, getting to his feet.

"Of course." the woman said, standing. "How rude of me. I'll go and leave you to rest."

"No rudeness at all. Perhaps we could continue this conversation at a later time?" Lestan asked politely, as the Deltan moved to the door. A ghostly smile played about her lips as the room door slid open.

"If you play your cards right..." she purred, as the door slid shut behind her.

Lestan waited, til he figured the woman was out of range, before he loosened his mental shields. He sighed wearily, and headed for the bedroom. He didn't want to have to sleep, but realized the necessity now. He couldn't afford to be giving himself away yet. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to give himself away at all. Hypnotizing an entire crew into forgetting that their commanding officer was a blood drinking freak, would be a tall order, even for one as old and learned as he was. Silently, he dropped to the bed, passing instantly into oblivion.

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

Selon sat in her quarters, in a meditating position. Her eyes were tightly closed, her breathing, slightly elevated from the norm. Lieutenant Selon of Vulcan was as close to being drunk as she had ever been. Mass consumption of alcohol was not one of her people's traits, but one which she had picked up in her time at the Academy. She found

that she was able to interact with even less of her natural inhibition, if she was intoxicated. Unfortunately, she had made a couple of mistakes while in that condition, thereby earning herself a reputation which had followed her around ever since. Currently, the Vulcan woman was trying to relax herself, having become extremely agitated after her conversation with Commander West. It seemed that their commanding officer was something other than human. Selon, may all the ancient Vulcan gods preserve her, believed she knew who, and what he was.

Once, many years ago, when Selon had been a child, her parents had asked her to take part in a childhood right of passage. Spending three days in the hard desert, making your way toward a goal, or finish line. Some children chose to travel in groups, others struck out on their own. Selon had not made many Vulcan friends by this age, and her human ones were not permitted to accompany her on her voyage. She left on her own, and made her way across the torturous miles of barren land. On the second night of her journey, she had been attacked, by one of the large carnivores which still populated the planet. They were so very few, that her instructor had barely even given a thought to them. They considered the chance of meeting one of the animals to be so remote as to be infinitesimal. Selon's luck was good. Or bad, depending upon your viewpoint. The creature was huge, vaguely catlike, with more than a little touch of reptile thrown in. It's bite, she knew, was incredibly poisonous. She knew she was not fast enough to run away, nor strong enough to fight. Not as an eight year old child. Instead, she sat down in the sand, and began to cry, waiting for the beast to devour her. When it roared, she had believed it to be the end of her short life. But there was the sound of a struggle. She opened her eyes to a sight, which til this time, the trauma had blocked from her mind. A humanoid man battled the great creature. His clothes were rent, blood streaming from wounds no one could possible survive. But he tossed the creature back, as if it were a kit, and leapt at its throat. The great beast wailed, as the man sunk his teeth into the creature's neck, and suddenly, fell silent. It sank to the ground and lay still, til the man finally pull his mouth away from the great, scaly neck, and staggered back. He turned to Selon, and looked at the child, sitting there mute. She felt herself probed by a telepathic mind of immeasurable power. His blond hair was streaked with his own, and the creature's blood. He limped slightly, as he drew near her. Even in the darkness, she could see the incredible glow his eyes seemed to give off. He seemed as a god. Selon noted, that even as she looked at him, the wounds on his body were closing themselves. His limp was lessening as he approached. Gently, he reached down and picked her up. He cradled her in his arms, which felt to the Vulcan child, like ice, though she herself had never seen the phenomenon. He spoke Vulcan badly, with an accent she didn't recognize.

"Child, what are you doing out on the hard desert at night?!" he asked, softly.

"Rite of passage." she mumbled, as his hypnotic gaze bored into her.

"Ah. Then you are headed across..."

"Yes. I am already behind."

The man/thing smiled (for she had already decided, that whatever the being was, it was only masquerading as a living thing), and looked to the sky.

"Well, little one, perhaps I can help. You sleep. When you awaken, you will be much closer to your destination."

"But I'm supposed to have no help! I will have failed the test!" Her voice rose to a wail.

"Hmmmm." he said gravely, "Well, I guess I will have to alter your memory so you don't remember me then. Then, you will not have been helped."

"That doesn't sound right." the girl had mumbled, starting to fall again into sleep.

"No, it doesn't, now does it?" the thing grinned and leapt into the sky. After that, the images were vague and fuzzy. Still, when she awoke the next morning, she did not remember the night before, only a high speed crossing of the desert, and eluding a great danger. She finished considerably ahead of the other children who had rejected her from their traveling groups. Now, as a woman of twenty-eight, she could finally put a name to the face that had helped her twenty years before. Without a doubt, it had been Lestan Darkraven. He had looked as young then, as he did now. She did not know, or understand what the man was, but she knew that she owed him a life. It was a debt, once remembered, that she would not forget.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

James Stettler swung gently back and forth, pushed by the slightest breeze from the room's air conditioning ducts. He would have been in pain,

if he hadn't been so numb. There had been very little blood flow to his arms for many hours, and as a result, he knew there would be severe pain when

his Cardassian guards finally did take him down. He hung silently, trying not to move, so that the parts of his abused body that could still feel pain,

wouldn't. Wearily, he tried to force his fried brain to think. He had been here for almost a month now. Slowly but surely, the torture had been

escalating in its sadistic intensity. Gol Deh'man was determined that this Starfleet officer held information that he wanted. As of yet, they hadn't

even admitted publicly that they had captured him. The Cardassian high command was not interested in bargaining just yet. Maybe not at all, he thought.

He knew the rest of his little research vessel's crew was dead. Those who weren't killed in the attack had been tortured to death before him.

For information that he didn't have. Starfleet was supposed to be working on some sort of eternity drug, that would increase the average humanoid

lifespan dramatically. Somehow, his ship and crew had been implicated in the ridiculous story. Now, he was all that was left out of a crew compliment of

over four hundred. Their ship, the E. Boyer-Wilson, was a floating cloud of metallic particles almost a star system away. James was alone and he knew it.

The sound of the cell door swishing open caused him to turn his head, just slightly faster than was good for his strained neck. He winced

involuntarily as the base commander, Gol Deh'man sauntered into the room. The Cardassian was small for his kind, but his impaired height seemed to make

him all the more vicious. James thought he was needlessly overcompensating.

"Good morning Commander! How are we today? Sleep well?" the man said, rocking back and forth on his heels, to match the swing of the

prisoner's chains.

"Oh yeah. Great accommodations you have here Deh'man. I wouldn't mind takin' my next holiday here." the Starfleet officer replied with

forced cheerfulness.

"Oh good. Good. Well, are we prepared for today's activities? I have some ripping good torture techniques my chief inquisitor wants to try out

today. Feeling up to the challenge?"

"Sure. Let's go for it." the human smiled, looking down on his captor.

The Cardassian stared back at him with a gaze that would shatter diamonds. He smiled again and turned to walk out the door. Turning slightly,

he looked over his shoulder.

"Commander, you show amazing tenacity. But in the end, I will win. There is no other possible outcome. The question is whether or not you will survive the affair."

Stettler ground his teeth slowly and painfully. It took his mind from the pains elsewhere.

"Oh I'll survive, Deh'man. Make no mistake. I'll survive to come back and see you dead, just as you let me see my crew."

The Cardassian grinned, showing unusually sharp, and pointed teeth. Another affectation by the runt base commander. He turned and walked out the

door. Another man came in, pushing a large cart, affixed with electrodes, pads and sensors. This was Gol Ma'ros, chief questioner and torture specialist.

James hung his head and sighed. He looked up to see Ma'ros approaching him.

"Well, let's get this over with."

* * *

"Sorry Captain Gavrilov, but the Star Tiger's engines don't leave a trace for us to follow." the young Ensign said, standing nervously on the 

upper bridge. He watched as Gavrilov's jaw worked slowly and deliberately before speaking.

"I do not believe, that we cannot track a one hundred year old, leaky tub. Mr. Cruise, you had better find me an option. I want the Star Tiger

,and I want her yesterday." the graying man growled.

"Yes Sir." the younger man said smartly. Quickly, he turned back to his station and began feverently poking at the console.

"Captain," the ship's Counselor said quietly, leaning towards Andrew, "there's no reason to crucify the boy. All of them are doing their

best."

The Captain looked curtly at the male Betazoid, and nodded.

"We've all got to try harder. Not only for the sake of our mission, but also so the degenerates on that tub get brought to justice."

"Captain," said the helmsman, "I served with Marius West on his flagship. I can speak from personal experience. The man's no degenerate.

He's a tough old bird who's had to make some pretty rough choices."

"Thank you, Commander Patterson. I appreciate your candor. But when they decided to take off and leave drydock, without authorization or

permission, they officially became renegades. Personally, I would slap the whole lot of them back into the stockades again, but we still need them

for a little while." the graying man growled, sitting back in his seat and looking out at the starfield.

The bridge was relatively silent for a few moments, as the crew strove to live up to their Captain's high expectations. They appreciated the fact

that Gavrilov was holding them up high, trying to get them to compare to the incomparable; the Enterprise and her crew. It galled Gavrilov that they always

seemed to end up second best to the Flagship. In fact, the Cardassian mission had almost went to them. Andrew had wrangled to get the assignment for his

people, figuring that this could be a real step up on the ladder of prestige for himself and his crew, if they pulled the rescue off. And they would pull

it off. Of that much he was sure.

"Bridge to Engineering." the Captain finally said, breaking the growing, uncomfortable silence.

**Engineering. Timabver here.**

"Commander, I think Mr. Cruise could use your expertise up here, to help on tracking the Star Tiger." the Captain said. Behind him, Counselor

Spartaan saw the Ensign wince.

**Uh, Captain, there is no known way to track a solid object moving through subspace. I'd have to try and invent something from scratch.**

There was a pause, as the Captain's face grew red. On the upper deck, Cruise looked satisfied and vindicated. He nodded smartly and bent over

his terminal.

"I don't care what you have to inventbutdoit!!!!"

* * *

Lestan drifted in his dreams, through a world over five hundred years gone. He walked through the streets of an ancient city, and watched carriages 

roll slowly by. People nodded to him, and bowed as he strolled along the avenue. Deftly, he ducked into an alley, and made his way through the

backstreet slums, to a seedier section of town. Silent as death itself, he crept up upon an old thuggard, staggering home after a typical night of

drinking, robbery and murder. Without thought or remorse, he grabbed the old man and drug him into the shadows, there, feeding off of his life's

blood, until with a shudder, the individual died. Lestan let him drop to the cold, muddy ground, and stepped from the shadows. His face was smeared with

blood. He awoke from his dream, in a blood sweat, just as his dream image was wiping his face. In reality, he had been about to do the same. Shuddering, he

stood and rushed to the replicator.

"... Water. Thirty three degrees Fahrenheit." desperately, he grabbed the glass up from the little ledge, and looked at it. The

blood/sweat on his forehead rose in little beads as he contemplated the drink. Closing his eyes, he put the glass to his lips and slugged it down. He

threw his head back and swallowed. Then, he staggered, as if hit by a giant fist. He fell against the wall, and slid down, leaving a bloody sweat stain.

He shook convulsively, as if fighting some inner struggle. A look of determination suffused his face, and his eyes bulged as his fought his battle.

In the end, he closed his eyes, tears running from them, turned his head to the wall, and vomited up the glass of water. He sobbed like a child for

several moments, then, Jane Franken was suddenly at his side, helping him up. Startled, he looked at her for a moment, and realized the Doctor was in her

own nightgown. She had apparently woke from her own sound sleep, from the mental emanations of his distress.

"Tried it again, didn't ya, ya big blond dope." the older woman growled, as she hauled him unceremoniously toward his bed.

"Just a glass of water, Jane." he cried, still sobbing, "Just a damn glass of water."

"Well, you can't eat mortal food, and that's that. I'm sorry I haven't been able to find a way to revert your digestive system back to

it's former glory, but until I do, you'd best off just stop this nonsense. Drink the blood and be happy you're here." the doctor said, putting him into

the bed, and pulling a special hypo from her robe.

"The dreams, Jane; the dreams. Will my conscience never free me?" the Captain moaned, sinking back onto the bed. The woman pressed the spray to

his neck, and watched as the immortal being drift back into unconsciousness.

"I can only attempt to heal the body, Lestan. I don't know who can heal your soul."

* * *

Galen O'Mara fussed over the ancient TransWarp engines, overseeing the installation of their new, Romulan power core. It was, he decided an 

amazing piece of machinery. More compact than the warp core aboard a Defiant class vessel, yet able to propel a ship thrice the size of a Galaxy

class into warp space. He knew there was more than ample power to translate the ship through subspace, as the twichy engines were supposed to do. The new

Bynar-built computer system should be able to keep track of the myriad of idiocyncracies that the failed experimental engines had. Now, if he could just

get the computer to talk nicely with the rest of the ship's systems...

In the backround bustle, a strange looking Vulcan, wearing Lieutenant's pips, hovered, cringing, and watching the integration of the

Romulan forced singularity. He appeared to be debating with himself. Finally, the being worked up the nerve to approach the Lieutenant Commander.

"Mr. O'Mara..." he said softly, gently tapping the Chief Engineer on the shoulder.

"...hmmmm?" the absent-minded Irishman acknowledged.

"They are doing it wrong."

"What? What do you mean?" Galen's full attention was now focused on the Vulcan. Something was strange about his forehead. It was...

"You're a Romulan!"

The alien looked uncomfortable.

"I would appreciate your not saying that so loud, Commander."

"What are you doing on this ship?!?"

"A mistake, I assure you. I was release from the Federation stockade on Earth, along with almost two dozen other prisoners. Due to my

surgery, I looked enough like a Vulcan to pass through the gates, along with the rest of the men. I assure you, they would not have willingly let me out of

their own accord."

"Let me guess, engineer?"

"Research Engineer. Captured on a reconnaissance mission over four years ago. We were checking on the rumors of a new Federation weapon being

developed. I guess after all this time, I finally found it."

Galen looked at the Romulan thoughtfully.

"What do you mean we're doing it wrong?"

"You're creating a feedback loop which will destroy the entire ship the first time you attempt to utilize the engines."

The Chief Engineer looked at the masses of tangled wiring, running crisscross on the floors, walls and ceiling of Engineering.

"You think you can better advise us?"

"I know I can. I helped design that core you're installing." the Romulan half smiled, a chilling effect on one who was thought to be a Vulcan.

"You're on. Guys, listen up! Lieutenant..." Galen looked at the man to his right.

"Klellan."

"Lieutenant Klellan has a few pointers he's going to share with us."

* * *

Aboard the massive starbase, The Flying Dutchman sat alone in the ancient control room, wheezing quietly to himself, as the medical computer 

struggled to keep up with the rapid degeneration of his ancient body. The man was well over two centuries old, and what had been left of him after his

ship's horrible accident, had been kept alive by the machinery of the station. For lack of anything better to do, he had taken over the

administration of the place.

"Well, Dalek, it won't be much longer now." the man smiled, struggling to breathe.

**Don't say that, George. There's always a chance**. the base computer intoned.

"Not after a certain point, my friend. You've kept me here all these years, but I think this time, I've finally found my means to escape."

**There was no choice, George. No one else has the technology to keep your shattered body alive except me. Would you really rather have died?**

"I should have!" the old man wheezed. "Instead, I got to watch, long distance as my family grew up, grew old and died. My wife, my sons. All

gone. No one left."

**Not true, George. Your one grandson survived a parasite attack, to carry on the family name.**

"Yes. Yes. But he never knew me. Everyone I knew and loved. Gone. All gone. As I should have been. As I should be."

**If you should have died, you would have. That I was able to keep you going, is a sign that you should be here.**

"For what? To administer to a bunch of degenerates that run around pillaging the galaxy? I would have been the first to stand against them in my

younger days."

**Your Starfleet Security training, no doubt.**

"Damn straight. Best security officer in the Fleet, in my day."

**George, that was then. This is now. You still serve a vital function, just not the one you would have in your past.**

"I want my past back." the old man whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the machines keeping him alive.

* * *

Lestan fell through his dreams, back over the hundred of years to his rebirth, into death. He had been young; in his early twenties when the fiend 

had taken him. He had always been a searcher a thinker, a man of action and reaction. But it was not until recent times (for him) that his life had

finally seemed to have purpose. IN himself, he resolved his conflict between good and evil. What had made him had been evil; what was flowing through his

veins might be evil. But the choice whether to act for either, was his. It had taken him the better part of a millennium to come to this conclusion. Once he

had, he was as committed to it as any cause he had ever adhered to. There was no room for compromise or debate. It had to be all, or nothing.

Flashes across the centuries played themselves out in his sleeping mind. Let it never be said that the immortal undead had no need for sleep.

Every mind needs a chance to rest and put aside the cares of the day. An immortal one even moreso than most, as their cares tended to build up over

several lifetimes, instead of the normal mortal one. In recent years, Lestan had taken even more care upon himself. A captaincy, a career that his money

and secret influence had bought for him. Now, in exchange for the perceived evil of buying his way into the Fleet, he took on the scrub missions; the

duties that no one else wanted, made the decisions no one wanted to make. He felt no guilt over the decision that had stalled his career. It had been the

correct thing to do. Lestan could now do nothing else.

A thought that was not his own, flashed unbidden through Lestan's mind. His retroactive view of the past stopped instantly. Another stray

thought caressed his sleeping brain. An ancient starship, of Federation registry. A diplomatic mission, that had ended in a betrayal and tragedy. A

wounded crewman limping away from a battle that had resulted in the annihilation of both sides. Only one survived. Unable to navigate, with no

stardrive, no medical attention and a burning desire to survive and see his family again, the man raced against time to find help. A vision of a giant,

darkened structure, floating lifelessly in the void; uncharted space, opening to reveal an alien station of indeterminant race and age. He docked, and

crawled through the airlock, by this time entrapped in his own delirium. The station found him and nursed him. Now, two hundred years later, his

artificially preserved life was coming to an end; and he was glad.

Lestan shot up in bed, instantly awake and aware that he was monitoring another person's thoughts. Somewhere, on the great station was

another human soul in pain. One of great age for a mortal; but one life finally drawing to a close. The vampire concentrated, focusing on the thoughts

of the person... a Starfleet officer... security... a mission over one hundred and eighty years old... Commander... Commander... George

Kirk?!?!

* * *

Armin Sesok gazed absently at the wall, behind the droning form of Commander Barclay. Currently, the search was expanding at an exponential rate, 

for the missing Star Tiger and her criminal crew. At the same time, plans were still moving forward for the rescue of the Federation people being held

in the base. The Admiral had his hands full at the moment. He was not happy, and Barclay's ramblings over a sensor report on the Ghilad system really

didn't interest him very much.

"... right, sir?" the Commander asked, looking at the older man.

"Hmmmmm. Ahhhhmmmm. Yes. Certain Commander. As you feel best. Use your discretion."

"To stock the replicator with coffee patterns?" Sesok sighed.

"Sorry Reginald. My mind is elsewhere right now."

"Totally understandable, Sir."

"In one way, I am outraged at Darkraven's cavalier attitude about command, and yet, knowing the eventual outcome of the mission he was assigned,

I am relieved." the elder kicked back behind his desk, and thoughtfully placed his hands behind his head.

Barclay lay down the padd on which his report was organized.

"I wish I could say he knew the risks from the start, sir, but we know he didn't."

"Au contrair, Commander. I think Lestan DID know, and that is why he disappeared with his ship and crew."

The Commander's eyes narrowed slightly.

"You believe he has informational sources highly placed in Command?"

"Of course. After the incident that ended his career advancement, there were many people that openly sympathized with his actions. Hell,

I've made decisions in my life that haven't been by the book. I still have friends. Well..." the Admiral looked thoughtful for a moment.

"And this justifies stealing Starfleet property and kidnapping personnel?"

"Not at all. But it certainly makes his crime more understandable."

"He says he still intends to carry out the mission."

"I have no doubt. But in what form he intends to do that, really worries me."

"You're afraid he may make some ill-advised attempt on his own?"

"Afraid is a good way of putting it. If he comes out of this, at all, I'm very afraid that the upper echelon of Fleet headquarters is going

to be shaken to its very foundations. We effectively set this entire ship and crew up, to die."

"Sir, it's on record that you opposed this entire tact from the start."

"Records have a way of disappearing, when it's in the Fleet's best interest. They'll need a scapegoat, and I'm the low man on the totem pole

in the chain of command on this one. Ergo, it's my head on the block." Sesok said, dryly. He rocked slightly back and forth in his chair.

"So... what do we want to happen here?" Barclay hedged.

"We want this over with, one way or the other, as quickly as possible."

"But what about Darkraven?"

"Since he's no longer under my direct control, we play the game his way. When he asks for help, we give it. When he asks the question, we

answer it." the old man said grimly. He spun the chair to the side and stood, abruptly.

* * *

George Kirk dozed quietly in his chair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Dalek, the Dutchman's mainframe, was at its wits end as to what 

more to do to keep the ancient human alive. So preoccupied, was the ancient AI, that it missed the human which had somehow breached all base security to reach

this inner sanctum. Lestan moved silently across the room, to stand before the decrepit human form which was strapped in and hooked up to the bases main systems. The

vampire was revolted. If this was the only life the poor creature could lead, then surely it deserved the swift release of death. He moved to embrace the

sleeping man.

Dalek's defensive systems came on line, sensing the motion in the room. To carry out the mercy killing, Lestan had to become solid. As soon as he left

the vaporous state, the computer moved to protect Kirk. Phasers fired, and a sheild dropped from the ceiling , settling about George Kirk like a protective

cocoon. The millennium old vampire was blasted backwards by the force of the beams, but not seriously injured. As the computer reoriented, Lestan faded out,

turning into so much gas and shadow. Now, the ancient Starfleet security officer was awake.

"Damnit, Dalek! What's going on? Can't I even die in my sleep in peace?"

**You're not going to die, George. I will not permit it.**

"But is the life you're imparting to him, any sort of life?"

Lestan's voice echoed around the small chamber.

Sophisticated sensors swept the area, looking for the intruder, but the AI could find nothing.

**It is better than death. It is better than being... alone.** the computer said, aiming to draw its opponent out into the open.

"NO. It is not. I cannot move. I cannot eat. I cannot... love. I havent interacted with another living soul in over a century. This isn't

life, you god-damned machine, this is HELL!!" the old man yelled hoarsely.

**Be quiet, George.** the computer said mildly.

Suddenly, Lestan was inside the shielding with the man. His hand sat loosely on George's shoulder. The security officer jumped in surprise, and

tried to turn to look at the intruder. Dalek was at a loss.

"Now, what will you do, Computer?" bone white fangs glittered in the dim light.

**Please... please do not kill him. I have cared for his well being for two hundred years. Please... **the computer's artificial voice broke.

Kirk twisted in the bond of his life-sustaining equipment, and managed to gain a look over his shoulder at his attacker. Rheumy eyes opened wide, as

he saw the smiling face, and the fangs.

"What...are you?" he whispered.

Lestan looked at the old man, and laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Lestan Darkraven, a votre service. Born, in the year of our lord, 1778. Died, 1799. Well, perhaps I should say, brought over."

"A... vampire?!"

"Yes. And captain of the recently recommissioned Excelsior class starship Star Tiger."

"Starfleet allows vampires in the ranks now?!"

"Well, the fleet doesn't know about me, or any of mine. I prefer to keep it that way." Lestan smiled again, hunkering down just behind the

old man.

"Wh... what are you here for?"

"I heard your dreams. Your pain. I come here to give you a choice. A choice which was not given to me. You see, I caused much pain in the

early years of this existence. I have spent many of the following centuries trying to redeem myself. If I can ease your pain. I will." the vampire

whispered.

George Kirk sat stock still, considering the implications of the statement.

"You would take the blood from my veins. Even Dalek couldn't compensate, with nothing to work with." he said, slowly, thoughtfully.

**George, no.** the computer said urgently. **I will try harder, to effect a more complete cure. Perhaps if I could repair some of the older**

**medical databases, there might me something there that could...**

"No." the old man whispered, closing his eyes. "There's nothing there that can cure extreme old age. Nothing does that."

"Well..." Lestan interjected.

Kirk sighed.

"Will you please move around so that I can see you better? It's very hard to twist ones self a hundred and eighty degrees when you're

mortal and over two hundred."

The vampire chuckled and moved around to the side of the device that was unnaturally sustaining the human's life. George looked at him fully,

and saw the slight glow to the skin, the utter smoothness, without blemish or scar. Lestan noticed the wandering gaze.

"When I was young in my immortality, I was badly injured and scarred, several times. The blood, in the end, forgives much. Now, I doubt

that there is anything that could truly destroy me, without my consent."

A shaky hand reached out and touched the cold flesh, that was pliant, yet strangely suggestive of stone. The bloodshot, tired eyes narrowed in

thought.

"If... if I became like you, would I be able to move again? And walk on my own?"

"Yes. You would. But with such immortality, comes a higher moral responsibility. It is hard to convince the young of this, when all they can

feel is the blood lust."

"How do you deal with it?"

Lestan smiled wanly.

"Well, due to my... advanced age, I am affected less acutely than the young. The effect of my blood in your veins would be a mitigating

factor no doubt. That and the technology that allows me to synthesize human blood to perfection."

"What else?"

"Well," the vampire sighed thoughtfully, "There are the moral obligations implied by practical immortality. One doesn't run about making

other immortals, willy-nilly."

"To how many others have you offered this... gift?" the old man asked, cautiously.

The Captain shrugged, and thought.

"Perhaps... half a dozen, in eight hundred years. The usual average is about one a century, in any event. I'm at a little less than

that. I made almost all of my companions in the first two hundred years of my vampiric existence."

Kirk sat silently, consumed in thought. Whereas before, he had longed for the release of death, he realized now, that he could have freedom,

and life; of a sort. The blood would free him from the machines, and he would be able to be among others of his kind. It was a very tempting offer. To live

to see Earth again. His farm. The graves of his wives and children. He bowed his head.

"Do it," he whispered.

Lestan stood.

"You are sure? Once it is done, there is no turning back. I have looked for a way back since before the Federation existed."

"Yes." George said hoarsely, "I'm sure. Just do it."

**NO GEORGE!!!!!!** Dalek wailed.

The vampire moved in, leaning over the old man, trapped so long in the bowels of the machine. Ice cold lips brushed against a neck only

slightly warmer.

"Relax..." he whispered. Then struck.

Kirk stiffened in his chair, and gasped, as fire seemed to coarse through his veins. Colors exploded behind his closed eyelids, and strange

scenes from the distant past flashed like pictures on a giant screen. The old man's heart fluttered violently, as the computer struggled to counteract

the vampire's embrace. Suddenly, Lestan pulled away and gashed his own wrist with his teeth. Blood spurted from the vein and he jammed it against the

CSO's lips.

"Drink, George. Quickly, before your life slips completely away," the vampire urged.

The old man sat motionless and silent. Unmoving for a moment, he suddenly came alive and locked his mouth against the gashed wrist. He drew the

blood from Lestan's veins in great draughts. Weakly, the Captain slid down against the side of the chair, and watched the blood's handiwork.

George's thin, white hair began to fill back in, in a rush. His emaciated figure filled out, and his old and rheumy eyes blazed up with an inner,

amber fire. Lestan gasped and weakly pulled his arm away from the old man. George Kirk blinked, his face smeared with his own and immortal blood. He

reached down, and ripped the wires and tubes out of his body. He stood, for the first time in over a century. He looked down at his body, which still

filled out. A smile lit his face, and he began to laugh.

**George?** Dalek whispered meekly.

"YYYYEEEESSSSSS! I LIKE IT!!!" the reborn man yelled, spinning around in the center of the room. Lestan chuckled weakly, and tried to gain

his feet. He slipped and fell. The newly born vampire heard his progenitors' fall, and rushed to his side, helping the Captain to his feet.

"Thank you."

"You're... welcome." the other replied shakily. It took him several seconds to regain the proper use of his limbs.

"Now, we have to come up with a way to explain your presence on the ship."

**Say he was held in suspended animation.** the computer said dully.

"Good idea, Dalek." Kirk smiled.

**You're welcome.** the computer whispered, as the two men exited the control room. **Alone... again.** the machine whispered to itself. For there was

no one else there to hear.

* * *

Lieutenant Selon labored methodically and quietly in her lab. At this time of the ship's "night" she knew there would be no one else to disturb 

her. Behind her, the small transporter system that was used for transporting potentially dangerous substances came on line. She whipped about, running to

the controls. Someone was coming in, from aboard the station, and they knew the code to remotely activate this transporter. Grimly, the Vulcan woman picked

up a phaser. She watched as two figures began to materialize on the small pad. As they coalesced into solidity, Selon recognized her Captain. The stranger

was dress in coveralls that fit him exceedingly strange. The two froze as they saw her.

"Sir..." the science officer said quietly, moving to help the obviously shaky man from his perch atop the tiny pad.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Let me introduce you to Commander George Kirk."

"Commander." the Vulcan woman nodded gravely.

"...Lieutenant." the man smiled, his eyes were an impossibly bright amber color.

"What are you doing up this late? I know you're not scheduled for this shift." Lestan said, moving to sit by the lab table.

"I simply find it easier to work in this quiet environment."

"Ahhhhh. Anti-social, are we?" Kirk interjected, in amusement.

"I do not believe my social proclivities have any bearing on my work ability, Commander." the woman said, her voice dripping ice. She knew

that whomever this man was, he was the same as the Captain. Though his snow white hair and amber eyes made him a start contrast from the robust and

vital Darkraven.

"Not true, Ms. Selon." Lestan sighed, "There is an old song, which I believe you should listen to, and draw some information from. It's a

late twentieth-century ballad by a duo called Simon and Garfunkel, called I am a Rock. I think you'll find that you are not."

The woman stiffened.

"There is no reason to be insulting, Captain."

George Kirk chuckled.

"I can see this one's a live wire."

Lestan smiled wanly, and leaned against the table.

"Yes. I believe I will need some help getting back to my quarters, George. It has been a very long day for me."

"Funny. I'm fresh as a daisy." the other grinned, moving to help the Captain stand. "Feel like I've just woke up from a two hundred year nap."

"Hmmmmmmm. Indeed." the Vulcan woman raised an eyebrow, stopping both men in their tracks. They looked at each other, then back at her.

"You don't remember, I know. Many years ago, on Vulcan, you saved a little girl in the desert. She remembers. She's old enough now to say thank you. And, to

keep her mouth, wisely shut."

Lestan was stunned for a moment, his eyes fuzzing out as he struggled to remember the event. When he did, he smiled and lowered his face

to chuckle into his own chest. He looked up again with a friendly look in his eyes.

"You are most welcome, little one."

The Captain and his new guest made their way out of the lab and down the corridor. Selon blinked in amazement, as she realized the being had

left her with her memory this time. She determined to be worthy of his trust.

* * *

Jane Franken staggered down the hallway towards the Captain's quarters. He had called and told her to bring her little black bag.' She 

dreaded this encounter, as it meant that Lestan had created another vampire. This being would need her medical ministrations to exist in this environment.

The doctor hoped that whomever the Ancient had created, was worthy of the power he now possessed. She stopped in front of the door to the Captain's

cabin and signaled for admittance.

"Enter, Doctor." came Lestan's voice, sounding considerably weaker than usual. The doors slid open before her, to reveal the tall, blond man

lying sprawled carelessly on the couch, eyes closed, and another man, standing by the replicator, gulping glass after glass of... blood. Jane sighed.

"Well, Bunky, what have you gone and done now?"

Lestan cracked an eye and gazed at the woman.

"I've been a bad boy, Jane. The gentleman guzzling unceremoniously at the wall unit, is Commander George Kirk."

"Hmmm. Name is familiar. Say any relation to..." she began, crossing the room toward Kirk, and activating her medical tricorder.

"Father of the same." George said wryly.

"Uhhhhhhh, that would make you..." the doctor stopped and looked at the man incredulously.

"Old before my time." the man chuckled, wiping his mouth. "Now, Doctor, what exactly is it that you must do for me?"

"Probably nothing. Seeing as Lestan made you, and I've already altered him genetically to cope with the environment, that alteration should

have been passed through the genes to you. I'm just checking now to make sure." she mumbled, staring intently at the readings on her scanner.

George waited several moments, looking around with interest and eagerness at everything in the room.

"Things look so different..." he murmured, examining the grain of the paneling on the wall.

Eyes closed, Lestan nodded tiredly.

"Yes. There is a great heightening of the senses, a clarifying, if you will."

"How long does it last?"

"How long is forever?"

Jane shook her head and put the tricorder away.

"Just as I thought. The alterations have passed on. He's perfectly equipped to deal with sunlight."

George paused in his drinking, looked at Jane in some puzzlement.

"Deal with sunlight? Ummmmm, aren't I supposed to burst into flames or something?"

"Less than thirty years ago, you would have. Well, perhaps not. But at the very least, you would be immobile during the daylight hours. Thanks to

Dr. Franken's tireless researches, we are able to interact with mortal humanity in both the day, and nighttime hours now."

"And we still have to drink blood?"

Jane looked irritated.

"Look, ya can't expect miracles. I'm doing the best I can, but we're not exactly dealing with strict science here." she moved across the

room, and turned the tricorder on Lestan, sitting beside him on the couch.

"I... we, understand, Jane. Your efforts are appreciated." the Captain said wanly, opening his eyes lazily to look at the older, mortal woman.

"Yeah. You're dehydrated. De-blooded. Whatever. You..." she pointed at George, who was working on another glass of red fluid, "stop

gorging yourself, and bring a pitcher of that over here."

The CSO complied, bringing a full container to the doctor and his progenitor.

"Here, ya big lug. Drink this, or I'll beat you." the woman growled.

"Doctor, your bedside manner is something to behold." the captain chuckled, accepting the glass that she was trying to force to his lips.

Gingerly, he sipped the liquid, stopping to grimace at the taste.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked.

"Ship's computer must be malfunctioning. This tastes more metallic than usual." he replied, making another face.

"Really? I thought it was supposed to taste that way." George asked, looking at his own empty glass.

"Non, mon ami. Much, much better."

"Depends upon your point of view, Lestan." the doctor chuckled.

Darkraven fixed her with a penetrating stare.

"While the taste might mean little to you, Jane, it is the experience of the kiss, the feeding, that is the experience for you mortals."

The woman wavered for a moment, eyes drifting closed and going out of focus. Then she snapped awake, in her usual humor.

"Stop that!" she scolded.

Lestan chuckled, and turned to look at Kirk.

"Never let them think they're safe. It makes life more fun!"

George watched as the doctor packed her things up, and stood beside the couch. For her age (which he put somewhere between fifty and fifty-five),

she cut a very fine figure. And he hadn't had contact with a woman in almost two hundred years.

"Um, just one question, doctor."

"Yeah?" the woman turned her severe gaze upon the CSO.

"Are we... functional?"

"As in...?"

"A man... a woman... the horizontal hokey pokey?"

Jane stood stock still for a moment, then began to laugh. Lestan joined her, in a slightly more reserved chuckle.

"Another side effect of the serum which enables you to withstand daylight, is the restoration of the sex drive." she said, wiping the tears

from her eyes. "Of course, this doesn't mean you're fertile, just that you can get it up."

George let out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Doc."

"No problem. Just watch who you're picking to try the equipment out on. You'll ruin them for anyone else."

"Huh?"

"You have uh... considerably more staying power than the normal, mortal male. Also, you're mental powers give you a decidedly

unfair advantage, in that you can directly stimulate the female pleasure centers of the brain with your own minds."

George raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"I think I'm going to like this."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Marius West was linked by a devious series of subspace beacons, into a little used Federation station mainframe, located several light years away from the secret Flying Dutchman Station. He was digging through historical records in excess of 700 years old. Lestan's name did become different, the farther back one traced his origins, but the trademark signature remained the same. An intensive computer analization had rendered his own observations correct. The signatures belonged to the same person. So, the commander realized he was dealing with a being of at least 700 years age. Now, he had to determine what type of being this was; and alien race or an immortal human. If

an immortal, then; how?

"Still continuing the research, Commander?" Ensign Todesku asked brightly, entering the small library cubicle that the elder man had ensconced himself in. He jumped halfway out of the chair, as the cheery little oriental woman spoke.

"Ensign, never sneak up on an old man like that!" he scolded quietly, half turning to glare, "You could've given me a heart attack."

"Sorry, Sir!" she squeaked.

"That's alright. Sit. I've found some rather interesting information on Captain Darkraven'." he replied.

The small woman sat beside the former Admiral, and looked with

interest at the screen. "Seventeen eighty-three?" she asked, reading the text.

"That's the first recorded signature I have which definitely relates to our Captain."

"But that would make him almost seven hundred years old!"

"There are many races in the galaxy which far outlive humanity," Marius said matter-of-factly.

"But they don't LOOK human!"

"The ones we know do not. However, we know that there are many things left out there for us yet to discover. It is quite conceivable that there is a race out there that is indistinguishable from us, that is practically immortal."

Kiko chewed on her lower lip.

"But... what if he's not an alien?"

Marius chuckled to himself, and leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his thick, white hair.

"Well, then that narrows down our choices considerably, doesn't it? If he's not an alien, then, what is he?"

"... There are legends. Stories about certain... beings." she said quietly.

"What? Demons? Warlocks? Vampires?" the old man grinned, "My dear, with the scientific advances of the day, and the length of time that has gone by, don't you think someone would have discovered the truth if these things existed?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Commander." the little woman whispered.

Marius shrugged.

"Perhaps. But I prefer to consider the most logical explanation first."

"Commander, at one time in human history, aliens weren't considered a logical explanation either."

Galen O'Mara watched, as the quiet Romulan directed the installation of the Forced Singularity core. Lieutenant Klellan worked quietly and calmly with the humans and other Federation aliens that labored in the somewhat cramped space in the Excelsior class ship's Engineering section. No one commented on the fact that their Vulcan' was actually a Federation enemy.

Klellan stepped back and watched as the crew finished the installation.

He turned and glanced at the Irishman.

"It is finished. We can begin powering up ship's systems within the hour."

"Simulations?"

"At your discretion of course, but unnecessary." the Romulan said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Confident in our self, are we?" the Irishman asked, a slow grin spreading over his face.

"Confidence in ourSELVES, Sir." the Romulan said, head inclining slightly, as he indicated the crewmen behind him.

O'Mara looked at the scruffy bunch standing around the compact core, high-fiving and clapping each other on the back. They were a rag-tag band, but they knew their business.

"Very well. I'll inform the Captain. Oh, and I'll be putting in for commendation for the Engineering crew. Lead of course, by Starfleet Lieutenant Klellan."

The Romulan looked slightly embarrassed.

"Ummmmmm, perhaps that would not be the best of ideas, Sir. I do not believe that Starfleet would be very happy about giving a commendation to a Romulan spy."

Galen took on a hardnosed air.

"Mister, as of when they let you out and transported you to this ship, to be a part of this crew, you became a Starfleet officer. Anyone who has the unmitigated gall to argue that point, will find a photon torpedo placed in their sleeping shorts."

The Engineering crew chortled heartily. They knew that their normally quiet and introspective Commander could become very awake and aware at the drop of a hat. Woe be to anyone who crossed him at the wrong moment. They were likely to find the replicator spitting out chocolate pudding at them.

"Do we have the power to bring the Bynar computer system on line?"

"Of course."

"Good. Let's begin." Galen said crisply.

Lia Stronn sat casually on the couch, slightly reclined, as she listened to Thomas Grave. The man was the strong silent type, bitter in the extreme against most forms of authority. That very bitterness, she deduced, was the exact reason why he had never risen above the rank of Ensign. That and his habit of leaving just enough clues behind, in his business dealings, to cast doubt on his general integrity.

"... so, I raised them all. A brother and three sisters. We never had much, but they never went to bed hungry and every one of them got an education. I made sure of it."

"And then, you entered Starfleet."

"Yeah. By that time, I had all of my uh... contacts and business associates established. A little disagreement with an Orion cartel, led me to seek refuge in the Fleet. I figured, they wouldn't dare try anything on a Starfleet officer."

Lia chuckled.

"The Orions have no problem with attacking a Starfleet battlecruiser, if they feel they can get away with it."

"So I found out. Then, since I was already here, and already committed, I figured the safest place for me to be, was in prison. I mean, it's like protective custody, right? SO, to get thrown good and deep into the klink, I deck a couple of officers in the Klingon Fleet. Bing! I'm in the brig, on my way to a maximum security prison."

"You certainly have interesting solutions to your perceived problems." the Deltan chuckled, shifting her position on the couch. She smiled inwardly, as the Ensign's eyes followed the ripple of her flesh.

Men were so transparent; whatever their race.

"Whatever works, I always say."

"May I get you a drink, Ensign Grave?" she stood, deliberately stretching, just to see the man's jaw go slack and his eyes stare hungrily.

"Uh... yeah. Scotch. Neat."

The bald headed woman smiled sweetly at him, and sashayed over to the

replicator for the requested drink. She also got herself a glass of white wine, which she swirled seductively and sipped, as she walked back to her seat. Seemingly making a last minute decision, she continued past where she had been sitting, and instead, sunk down beside the by now obviously excited human. Lia smiled at him , and handed him the drink. Thomas Grave slugged the drink back, barely tasting it. His eyes were lock irrevocably on the swell of Lia Stronn's perfect breasts. The Counselor leaned closer, allowing the Ensign an almost unobstructed view of her decolletage. She watched as Grave's color turned slightly pink.

"Ensign, you seem very tense. Is our discussion bothering you?"

"... No Ma'am." the distressed man rasped.

"Well, is there anything you want to say?"

"... I realize this is very unprofessional of me, Commander, but I'm having a wee bit of a problem with your proximity." he squeaked, turning to set his glass down, and attempting to regain something of his composure.

"Why?"

"Prior to being assigned to the Star Tiger, I haven't seen a woman in almost nine months. I haven't... engaged in any activity in over a year. Your... nearness is causing me some real control problems."

"Ensign, it's YOU who are considering it a problem," the counselor smiled. "I, however, consider it flattering. So, why don't we take care of this perceived problem?"

"Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh, beg pardon?"

The counselor leaned even closer, and gently brushed her lips against his.

"I mean, why don't we take care of this problem." she whispered against his mouth.

Grave's senses overloaded. His eyes rolled up. Slumping forward, he lay unconscious against the woman's ample chest. She sighed and shook her head.

George Kirk wandered the corridors of the Star Tiger, absorbing the atmosphere of the old ship. The Constitution Class had been near completion when he had disappeared. The Excelsior class vessels had been commissioned at the end of his son's career. At that time, the elder Kirk had been trapped aboard the alien station for over fifty years. He had watched his son's death on the Enterprise-B, and ceased to follow the affairs of the Federation for over forty more years. Though the technology was nothing new to him, he reveled nonetheless, in the feeling of starship deckplates beneath his feet. Ever so sensitive, since the transformation just a few hours before, he felt the slight quiver of the ship, as power coursed through her old veins. It was a sensation he had never noticed before, and one he did not know he would so much miss.

He smiled warmly at each person that passed him in the corridor. Each face he memorized, and each name and rank, he plucked from their minds. Lestan had taught him a little mental trick, to keep them from peering too deeply at him. The Captain said he himself had to use it just about constantly. Of course, at his age, George wasn't too surprised. Lestan purported to be somewhere around seven-hundred years old. The security officer shook his head. Two hundred years had seemed forever to him. He couldn't imagine seven. Of course, now he had time. He had all the time in the world. There was so much to do, and now, George Kirk had the time, and the means to do it.

He stopped in front of the door to the security office. He had not meant to come here, at least not consciously. He smiled to himself and chuckled. He walked forward and marveled as the doors open before him. Inside the office, a massive alien lizard sat ensconced behind a desk. He glanced up coldly as Kirk entered the room. Tzardoz stood when he recognized the Commander's pips on the unknown officer's collar.

"May I help you, Sir?"

"I hope so..." George looked hard at the alien for a rank ensign that he recognized, then finally resorted to picking it out of the lizard's brain, "Lieutenant. I'm a bit new around here as you might have guessed..."

"I was not made aware of any last minute transfers." the Gorn rumbled, looking more closely at the stranger.

"Well, I'm not a transfer. I was on board the Station, held in... suspended animation. Frankly, my general Starfleet knowledge is almost one hundred and forty years out of date. I was a security officer, and I'm most comfortable in that capacity. Might you have the time to give me some instruction on how things have changed?"

The Gorn was taken aback by the man's directness. And by the

strangeness of the tale he told. The security chief walked back around behind

his desk and sat down.

"Computer."

Working

"Background history on..." the Gorn looked questioningly at the human.

"Commander George Kirk."

The lizard's eyes opened wide.

Armin Sesok stared moodily at the PADD on his desk. There had been a handful of communications from the Star Tiger, and all appeared to have come from wildly varying places. Since it was impossible that the ancient ship had made it back and forth across the quadrant without being seen, the Admiral had to assume that Galen O'Mara had set up some sort of an untraceable relay. A detailed scan had begun, checking the call logs of every relay post in the system. A trace was going to take time, time that the old man knew he didn't have. But, it bought Lestan and his crew of degenerates that much more time to do whatever it was that they were doing. The door burst open and

Commander Barclay triumphantly entered the office.

"We got them. A fluke, really, but we traced an information request call from a backwater station in the Enebria system. Someone on board doesn't trust Captain Darkraven. They were download information on his family history."

"Whatever. Where are they?"

"Apparently, they're holed up in the Drakkar system. Rumor has had it that there's some sort of a smuggler's base out there, but we've never been able to confirm it. Now, I guess we can." the balding man grinned, handing his PADD to the Admiral. Sesok scrutinized it, then looked at his aide.

"Have you told anyone else about this, Reg?"

"No Sir. You're the first."

"Good. Bury it."

The Commander looked aghast.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"Bury it. I need to send Lestan a message, with final details on the mission. He can do as he feels he must, from there."

"Sir, that's a direct breach of regulation."

"Who makes the regulations?"

"Uhhhhhhh, you, Sir..."

The older man smiled evilly.

"Right Reg. Bury it."

Kiko Todesku was on duty when the message from Admiral Sesok came in.

Normally, there was an operator that placed the call. This message was a direct communique from the Admiral himself. Placed by the admiral himself. Kiko scrambled to trace the Captain's whereabouts.

"Bridge to Darkraven." the little oriental woman spoke nervously. There was a pause, then a tired voice responded.

"Go ahead."

"Captain, this is Ensign Todesku. I have an incoming call, Priority One status directly from Admiral Sesok."

"Route it down to my room, Kiko." the man said, his slight French accent buzzing in her ear.

"Yes Sir." she performed the necessary patch and let the call go through.

Lestan sat up in bed and moved at prenatural-speed to his desk. He activated the viewer terminal, and looked into the cold brown eyes of the Admiral.

"What a pleasant surprise, Sir! Security must have been working

overtime to find our location."

"Just Commander Barclay. And it was blind luck we found you. Someone on the ship was researching your family background through a remote post. We caught the request and traced it back from there." the old man said dryly.

"I... see. So, to what do I owe the honor of this call?" Lestan was suddenly serious. If someone was questioning his history, he was going to have to put a stop to it.

"Your mission has been moved up. The operation takes place tomorrow. Gavrilov has requested another backup' ship. Nothing I could do. I'm in the hot seat since you walked off with the Star Tiger."

"Understood, Sir. We regret very much having to put you in this position, but I'm sure you were not in favor of whatever scheme that was being hatched involving this ship."

"Most assuredly not. Lestan, Marius West is one of my oldest and dearest friends. I am not in the habit of sentencing anyone to death, let alone one of my best friends."

Sesok snorted, looking offscreen. Lestan smiled and nodded.

"I thought as much, Sir. Now, since you've already bent the rules to a ridiculous degree, perhaps you might consider just breaking them altogether, and telling me what the hell is going on?"

Sesok sighed and looked down at his desk.

"Running the Illiad's ID beacon, you were supposed to approach Delibes, in the Berterent sector. The Card ships guarding the prison post there were to be draw off by your presence in the outer fringes of their sensor range. The REAL Illiad scoots in from the other side of the sector, hides in Delibes shadow and invades the base, rescues the prisoners and downloads their core before leaving. Meanwhile, the Star Tiger is pretty much cut to shreds, providing a very tasty diversion."

Lestan sat quietly for a moment.

"Someone is a very sick bastard, Sir."

"Yes, Lestan... sick, but practical. An outmoded ship, a crew of dregs,' all that needed to be said was that you were a bunch of escapees in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The Captain nodded thoughtfully.

"Unfortunately, they didn't count on our stubbornness."

"Your resourcefulness." the Admiral smiled.

"Indeed. Very well. We shall carry out our part of the plan."

"Lestan, you're not committing hari-cari."

"Not at all, Sir." the vampire smiled primly.

"So what do you plan?"

The ancient being chuckled.

"Now hear this, Now hear this! Red Alert! I repeat, RED ALERT! Everyone to their battlestations!" Marius West said calmly, but forcefully.

All across the ship, men and women poured out of their quarters, staggering

and struggling into their uniforms. Lestan Darkraven sat in the command chair on the bridge of the Star Tiger and waited patiently, as his crew fell out of the turbo-lift and onto

the flight deck. He glanced over his shoulder at them in amusement.

"Very good response time, my friends. Now, if you could just try to stay on your feet..."

The huge Gorn growled low, pulled himself from the bottom of the pile and strode to his station. The others followed suit. Kiko Todesku sat down gingerly and began docking release procedures.

"Ensign Grave."

"Yes Sir?"

"I'd like you to meet Commander Kirk. He's going to be watching over your shoulder to learn a few things. Please feel free to instruct him as we go." Lestan said.

"Call me George." the medium built man with the almost glowing amber eyes said, smiling.

"Yes Sir, George, Sir." Grave replied automatically, turning back to the Ops console.

Marius West looked with interest at their new arrival. Lestan had filled him in on the mental emanations coming from the station, being forced to awaken and track the suffering Starfleet officer. The wily old man was having none of it. He knew that if Lia Stronn hadn't picked up the mental emanations, then Lestan had to be a powerful telepath indeed. What else, he wasn't sure. But quite probably immortal.

"Disengage docking clamps and power couplings." Lestan intoned.

"Done, Captain." the little oriental woman called cheerily, from the NAV console. Ensign Grave grinned at the her exuberance. Normally, that would have been his job, but seeing him saddled with a student to instruct, she had automatically assumed some of the tasks which took away from his attention.

"Signal the station that we're pulling away."

The station already knows. Dalek said dryly, over the bridge communication system.

George Kirk looked up in surprise.

"Dalek!? What have you done?"

As I am no longer required on The Dutchman, I decided to transfer my cognitive functions into this vessel's crude computer system. It is very cramped in here.

"Oh good Lord. My ship's now cognizant?" Lestan murmured.

Indeed, Captain Darkraven. I hope it is no large inconvenience. As I watched over George Kirk for so many decades, I find I have built up quite an attachment to the old fool. I simply could not bear to see him run off and get himself killed after I had spent so much time and effort keeping him among the... living.

Lestan chanced a glance in George's direction and noticed the uncomfortable look on his face. Behind him, Marius was furiously working over a free terminal.

"Commander West, it is alright. Dalek is a benevolent program. There is no need for extensive security measures. Besides, by this time, I am quite sure the program is well seated in our computer core." the Captain said with a chargrinned look on his face.

Thank you, Captain. the ship's computer said gratefully, I shall attempt to be a productive member of your crew.

"Ah, yes. Now, where were we?" Lestan coughed, looking elsewhere to escape Marius' glare of disapproval.

Flying Dutchman Station notified of the departure of Federation vessel Star Tiger. Station acknowledges receipt of message. Proceed down corridor four-zero-one-nine to perimeter of station framework. Good luck in your travels. End message. Dalek said.

"Ensign Grave, at your discretion?" the captain sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. He knew now who the inquisitive member of his crew was. There were several. None of whom was very good at keeping their thoughts to themselves in stressful situations. Except for Lieutenant Selon. Being Vulcan, even a non-conformist one, had its advantages. Though she sat nearby, at the science station, nary a stray thought escaped her head to unnerve the Captain. However, the series of thoughts running through the aged Commander's brain, was dizzying, even for a mortal a fraction of his age. Lestan had no time to puzzle out what the man had discovered. Though at the first opportunity, he was sure he would find out.

"Ahead, one quarter impulse." the Ensign stated, running his fingers across the ancient ship's controls. Smoothly, without even a hint of motion, the Star Tiger slid forward, and began maneuvering among the free-flying girders and pylons, which made up the interior of the station. Like a giant swan, the Excelsior class ship weaved her way through the web, and out towards open space. The bridge crew cheered, when they finally cleared the station boundaries. Lestan smiled wanly.

"Let's contain our enthusiasm a bit, shall we? The mission itself is still ahead of us. Lestan to O'Mara." he sighed, taping his chair comm.

O'Mara here. came the voice from Engineering.

"Nothing fancy, Chief. Just a test of regular warp speed, if you please."

Of course, Captain. But we're ready down here whenever you are. the Irishman's voice betrayed his smile.

"Acknowledged. Darkraven out."Thomas Grave waited expectantly.

"Well," Lestan said, glancing around the bridge. "... You heard the man. Ahead, Warp Factor 8."

"Heading, Sir?" Kiko chirped.

"Delibes. The Berterent Sector."

Grave smiled, and waited for the woman to finish the heading. Then, his fingers danced again across his station.

"At your Command, Captain."

"... Go for it." Lestan smiled. it had been one of his favorite idioms from the twentieth century.

Captain Anton Gavrilov sat in the command chair of the USS Illiad, jaw set and squared, and gazed at the viewscreen. They had been unable to track the renegade Star Tiger. The chiseled, older man was not happy with his command staff. For him, there could be no such thing as failure. No obstacle was insurmountable, as long as the correct amount of effort was put into it. By his standards, his people had failed. Another ship had to be outfitted and used as decoy. It however, instead of being crewed by dregs, was being directed by a very unstable sub-space link. At best, they could come close to approximating the effect that the Star Tiger would have made. The Nebula

class vessel, Chakhan, was barely in working order, being able to make warp 2, with little defensive capability. But it was what they now had to go with, thanks to Lestan Darkraven's defection from the Fleet. When this was over, Gavrilov intended to make it his first priority, to bring the deserters to justice.

"Scanning?" he said, looking at helm control.

"All clear, Sir."

"Subspace link to the Chakhan?"

"Working."

"Activate beacon." Gavrilov tapped absently on the arm of his chair. The ensign at OPS quickly made the adjustments, and turned to the brooding officer.

"Done Sir. The Chakhan is now flying the Illiad's ID beacon."

"Good. Now, Send her on her way, and we'll be going on ours."

"Chakhan moving away at warp 1.5. Estimated time to Berterent sector, one hour, twenty minutes."

"I hope that tub holds together long enough to draw the Cards away. Otherwise, we're going to be in a world of hurt." the graying man muttered.

Klellan monitored the singularity coil closely, to see how it would react to its environs. It produced several times more power than its older variants, more than the standard Federation anti-matter core, and could in fact power an entire station. The Romulan wanted to be perfectly positive that its enormous energy output wouldn't shake the old ship to pieces. Carefully, he routed the power through system after system, checking to make sure everything was compatible and nothing would overload. A smile

creased his face, when the systems board lit up cleanly, with no problems.

"Commander O'Mara." he called, still checking off things on his PADD.

"Yes, Klellan?"

"We have achieved full systems compatibility. Sheilds are responding at two-hundred percent capacity. Phasers are responding at well over three hundred percent. Normal engine function is two hundred and fifty percent."

O'Mara moved to stand beside the Romulan, and glance over his

shoulder at the PADD.

"What about Trans-Warp?"

"We have so little data available, that I have not been able to devise a suitable algorithm to test the Drive's compatibility." the man sighed, appearing slightly frustrated.

"But everything else is a big GO, correct?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Then I'll worry about TransWarp if and when the time comes." O'Mara said, clapping the erstwhile spy on the back.

James Stettler lay on the floor of his cell, curled tight into a ball. The feeling had finally returned to his arms and legs, and he wished with all his might that it had not. He was sure both his shoulders were out of their sockets, and his hips might have been too, he wasn't positive. They had brought him down from his restraints, saying that he was to be allowed time to fully recover his strength, before the interrogations' were to be

continued. He didn't want to recover. He was afraid that his sanity was about to break. While the Starfleet officer was sure he had no useful information to impart to his captors, that wasn't really the point. He didn't want to be broken. He didn't want to be turned into a quivering shrieking, useless lump of meat before they allowed him to die. So, he was

willing his heart to stop. And failing miserably. The door to his cell swished open, and the under-tall base commander entered.

"Hello, James. Still alive and kicking, I see." the man chuckled, moving to sit on the side of the bed that James Stettler couldn't even rise up enough to get into.

"If I could raise my leg enough, I'd show you a kick." the human officer whispered, in a dry, raspy voice.

"Now, now. Temper, James. Ma'ros says you're very close to breaking. He should know, I trust the man's opinions. SO, I ask you again, will you tell us what you know of your own free will, or must I tear it from you?" Deh'man's voice turned into a low, ugly snarl at the end of the sentence. His eyes glistened expectantly, as he already knew the officer's response.

"Go to hell, you bastard." James whispered, closing his eyes. Stettler listened, eyes closed, as the Cardassian clucked like a mother hen.

"Very well, James. Have it your way then." Deh'man rose and walked languidly to the door of the cell. "You've been an interesting opponent, Captain, but invariably, you lose. Just as you all do." He turned and walked from the cell. On the floor, James Stettler curled tighter and tried not to cry.

"Captain Gavrilov, communications from Delibes indicate that the outpost there has picked up the approach of the Chakhan. Several vessels have been dispatched to intercept."

"Very good. Ahead, Warp nine." the graying lion said, clenching and unclenching his hands on the rests of his chair.

"Yes Sir." the helmsman said. The Galaxy class vessel leap forward, streaking towards the Berterent sector.

"Captain, long range sensors show that the Cardassian forces are moving to engage the Illiad." Grave said, spinning his seat about to look directly at the captain.

"Not the Illiad, Mr. Grave. Another ship, to be sure. Anton Gavrilov would no more go on a Suicide Run than I would." Lestan chuckled.

"How many ships still in orbit around Delibes?" Marius West asked, standing on the upper deck of the bridge.

"Our enhanced sensors indicate... two cruisers. Equivalent to our Galaxy class." the Ensign replied.

"Indeed." Lestan said, looking over to exchange a glance with his second in command. "I guess we should begin to ready ourselves for a little invasion. Mr. West, Ensign Grave, Lieutenants Tzardoz, and Selon, please report immediately to conference room one. Lia, you have the con." Marius said, rising from the command chair. The balding woman looked surprised for a moment, then moved to take the captain's position.

George Kirk moved to stand near the little group which was exiting

the bridge.

"Mind if I tag along?"

Lestan slapped his forehead.

"Mon Ami! Please forgive me. I had forgotten for the moment of your presence. Of course. I would welcome your help on this mission."

Kirk smiled.

"I was always pretty good at counter insurgency."

"Yeah, but what about when we're the insurgents?" Grave mumbled.

The commander's teeth glittered strangely in the turbolift light.

"Even better." he smiled.

"Klellan, what the hell is this!?" O'Mara bellowed, stumbling across a singularly strange looking piece of equipment, which was sitting entirely too near a power conduit for his liking.

"Ummmmm. That would be a cloaking device." the Romulan said, staring pointedly at his PADD.

"A CLOAKING DEVICE!?!? I didn't order any cloaking device!" the Commander roared, hands on hips.

"Well, it arrived with the singularity core, and Ensign Grave had tagged it for sale at the first available opportunity. I... liberated it from his possession and installed it here. I figured... as you humans say... it might come in handy?" the Romulan spy shrugged.

Galen O'Mara grinned and looked at the device.

"Damn skippy." he agreed, and clapped the man on the back. "I've got to go to a senior staff meeting. You hold things together here til I get back."

Klellan nodded. "As you will, Sir."

The Commander turned and strode out of Engineering. The Romulan turned and remarked to the crewman nearest him.

"I think for the first time, in a long time, our sleepy eyed commander has come fully awake."

"Ladies and gentlemen, here is the situation. The Illiad is closing on Delibes, intent on making the rescue of whatever Fleet personnel are still alive from the research vessel E.Boyer Wilson. I do not believe that their attempt will succeed. According to Admiral Sesok, they're using a Nebula class vessel, and a sub-space remote link to run her, as a decoy. That is the position we were supposed to fill."

"Bastards." Grave muttered.

"In the event that the Illiad is detained or delayed, I am proposing that we complete the original timetable and rescue the prisoners ourselves. To that end, I wish to assemble a small strike force to invade the station."

Lestan said, poking at the PADD on the table in front of him.

"I should like to volunteer, Captain." Tzardoz spoke up immediately.

"Good. I was going to appoint you co-leader of the team anyway."

"And who will be the other leader, Sir?"

The ancient vampire looked up from the small computer.

"Me, of course."

"Captain, I must protest..." Marius began.

"Commander, do not even consider trying that the Captain's place is on the ship' line with me. A. I do not believe in it, and B. You have far more command experience than even I do. So, you have the con. End of discussion on that front." Lestan said.

"Yes, Sir." the former Line Admiral said, clamming up.

"The rest of you will be split up between the two teams. One group will rescue whatever prisoners are left alive, and the other group will first download, and then corrupt the Cardassian bases' central computer core." the captain continued.

I believe I would be of some help in that regard, Captain. Dalek interrupted.The immortal being started, as did several other crewmen at the table.

"I DO hate it when you do that." Lestan sighed mildly.

Beg pardon, Sir. the computer entity said politely.

"Now, how do you see that you'd be able to help us from orbit?"

If someone hardwires a communicator and a tricorder into a terminal, I will be able to invade the base system. Lockout codes mean nothing to me. It is the nature of my being that I can go where I want, when I want, in cyberspace.

"Very good." Lestan nodded approvingly, "You're hired."

"I'd like to volunteer also, Captain." George said quietly.

"You're not officially crew, Commander. You do not have to feel obligated."

"Believe me, if I didn't want to help, I'd say to hell with you all, and be on my way. But, I'm here, and I'd like to contribute." George said, leaning forward and looking around the table.

"Welcome aboard the project, then." Lestan smiled at his progeny.

"Captain, Cardassian ships closing on the Chakhan." the ensign sitting at NAV called.

"Christ, that was quick." the man muttered to himself.

"We're getting a strange reading captain, almost as if..." the man stopped as the Illiad was shaken by an impact and heeled over to port.

"SHIELDS!" Gavrilov roared. "What the hell was that?!"

"A Cardassian battlecruiser and... a Romulan Warbird, decloaking off the starboard bow, sir." the ensign called.

"Sunovabitch. They knew. THEY KNEW." the older man snarled.

"We are being hailed, Captain. The Cardassian vessel is telling us to stand to and prepare for boarding."

"Well to hell with them. Lock photon torpedoes on their engineering section and fire."

"Torpedoes away sir."

They watched the viewscreen, as multiple strikes hit the Cardassian vessel.

"No damage, Captain, and their shields seem to be holding."

"Oh mother. Are we in for it now..." Gavrilov whispered.

"We are in geo-synchronus orbit around Delibes, Captain. I've inserted us so we're on the opposite side of the planet from the Cardassian ships stationed here." Grave said, rising from the Nav position, to allow a younger man to take his place.

"Excellent work. Well, let's get this show on the road, Shall we?" the blond man smiled, rising from the Captain's chair.

"Marius, you have the con."

The old man nodded curtly. Lestan could feel many emotions and thoughts through the mortal's brain. Distrust, because he was not sure who, and what Lestan was. Resentment, at being left behind. Bitterness because he realized his advanced age made him a physical liability on a covert mission such as this. Lestan knew that he could cure all of those problems in one fell swoop, But he would not. God knew, one fledgling per century was more than enough.

"Alright everyone, transporter room three." Lestan said crisply. The ancient being bounded from the deck and into the turbolift. His senior staff piled in around him.

"Good luck." Marius said finally.

"Thanks." Thomas Grave growled. "We're gonna need it."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Five forms shimmered and appeared in an old-style transport effect. Immediately, Tzardoz grabbed the nearby Cardassian guard and wrung his neck. Carefully, he carried the still twitching body to a nearby airduct, ripped the cover off and stuffed the body inside. A couple of light taps restored the grating to the wall. Total time, less than 10 seconds. Lestan nodded appreciatively. Kirk grunted quietly and gave the Gorn a thumbs up gesture.

"Fan out. We're looking for a data access console." the Captain said quietly.

"Here, Sir." Selon offered, from a doorway. The little group quickly crowded into the room. Another Cardassian was slumped over his desk, stunned by a heavy phaser blast. He was working over prisoner specs. According to the screen, there was only one Federation captive currently incarcerated.

"One!?" Grave swore, "Out of a whole ship, ONE?"

"Quietly, Ensign." Darkraven murmured.

"Sorry, Sir." the smuggler said bitterly.

Selon had shoved the unconscious alien onto the floor, and was accessing a side panel in the terminal. Within seconds, Dalek had an on-line link with the base computer.

*Beginning download and data compression.*

"Hey! Don't forget to screw this place over." Grave added.

*Do not worry, Ensign. THAT is a foregone conclusion.* the AI chuckled.

"Do we have a location on... James Stettler?" Tzardoz rumbled.

"Prison section. Level K, block twenty."

"We're going to have to take the lifts." Kirk said grimly.

"Ummmmm, anyone speak Cardassian?" Thomas asked, looking up.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"I... believe I can remember a few words." Lestan said dryly.

"Good. You speak to the lift controls." the Ensign grumbled.

Lestan's mind reached out, searching the area nearby for an unfamiliar mind. He encountered several. With a slight blink and twinge, he pulled the necessary information from them.

"Alright people, let's get moving." The Captain smiled, "Stay together, and keep yourselves alert."

"Nooooooooo shit." Grave sighed.

Selon snickered at the human's glum commentary.

The little group ducked from the room and moved swiftly down the hall to the nearest lift. As Tzardoz moved to palm the door open,

George spoke.

"Wait."

The old time Starfleet officer placed both hands and his ear against the door and closed his eyes. Time seemed to slow for a moment as he searched.

"Two in this lift. Coming down to our level. Be ready." he said, backing away.

Seconds later, two guards stepped from the door to be met by a huge lizard and a grimacing human. The battle was over as soon as it begun.

"Very fine work, Commander." The CSO complimented, dropping his dead guard on the floor beside the lift.

"Thanks, Lieutenant. You too." Kirk said cheerily, piling his opponent with the other.

"I do believe you both delight in killing, far too much." Lestan said disapprovingly.

"Hey, knowing what they do to prisoners, I have no sympathy." Grave grunted, walking into the lift.

*****************************************************************

"Status report, Ensign?" Marius West rasped, sitting in the command chair. He had started his career on an Excelsior class, it seemed fitting to him that he should go out on one too.

"Cardassian ships are holding position on the other side of the planet, Sir." the little woman piped up cheerily. Marius shook his head. Did nothing dent this girl's exuberance?

"Keep Watching them. West to O'Mara." he said, nudging a switch on his chair.

*O'Mara here.* came the chief engineer's voice.

"I'm not happy just sitting here, hiding behind the planet. Do we have any way to disguise or hide ourselves a little better?"

*Funny you should ask, Commander.* the Irishman chuckled.

Moments later, the Star Tiger faded from view entirely.

"And you mean to tell me, we have full shields, and firing capability?" Marius asked.

*Yes Sir! All at a very moderate power consumption rate. Not as if that would matter, with the plant I've got operating down here.*

"How long can we stay like this?"

*Innnnnnnnndefinitely.*

"Chief, if I were twenty years younger, I'd marry you." Marius sighed, leaning back in the command chair.

*No thanks, Sir. You're just not my type.* the Engineer laughed.

*O'Mara out.*

"Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, Sir?" Kiko asked, impishly.

"You hush up down there, young lady." the elderly man scolded.

"Hushing up, Sir." she grinned at the former admiral and spun back to her station.

*****************************************************************

Anton Gavrilov gritted his teeth, as the Illiad rocked beneath him. The Galaxy class vessel was taking a terrible beating at the hands of the Cardassian and Romulan vessels.

"Report!" he barked, looking at the images on the viewscreen.

"Sheilds down to sixty-seven percent. Phasers down to seventy-eight percent. Starboard power coupling shows severe stressing." the helmsman said, over the creaking and groaning of the ship.

"We've got to get out of here." the gray haired man muttered.

The Illiad rocked again, with the force of a combined torpedoe strike from the enemy vessels. Sparks few everywhere and the emergency lights came on for a moment.

"Warp drive offline, Sir. Engineering reports that the inertial dampeners also show signs of immanent failture." the new man at helm shouted, pushing the form of his unconcious crewmate out of the way.

"Damn! Prepare a message bouy for release to Starfleet."

"Sir, can't we call for help?"

"Who do you think would have the damn sense to answer us, Man? We're inside Cardassian territory, and being outgunned by a combined group of ships. NO Starfleet Captain's going to endanger their ship and crew to rescue us from this mess. We have to do it ourselves. Or die."

*****************************************************************

Aboard the warship Proktos, a junior officer stared uncertainly at the display before him. Moments before, he had a very strange reading on his sensor display, and now that image was gone. Vanished as if it had never existed. internally, he had a dilemma. Inform his immediate superior, and run the risk of reprimand for his foolishness, or ignore the lost image. Cardassians did not tolerate stupidity in their ranks very well at all. They had almost as much respect for their own, as they had for their prisoners.

"Commander?" the youth finally spoke up, as the officer passed his station on a round of the bridge.

The man stopped and looked at the enlisted man.

"Sir, I had monitored a ghost image, in geosynchronos orbit on the opposite side of the planet, until a few moments ago. Then the image vanished."

The officer frowned.

"Have you run a sensor check?"

"Yes sir. Three times."

"How long did this image appear on the sensors?"

"Almost ten minutes."

"And then, for no reason, it vanished?"

"Yes Sir."

"Please sound red alert. Feed the ghost image's last coordinants to the navigator. If there's nothing there, fine. If there is..." the Commander smiled, his almost reptilian skin, crinkling.

*****************************************************************

"Commander! Cardassian ship leaving orbit. She's moving to our position."

"Hmmmm. We've been spotted, then." Marius grunted. "Bridge to O'Mara."

*O'Mara here.*

"Cheif, how good is this cloaking device?"

*Talk to the expert. Klellan!* the engineer called.

*Yes, Commander, this is Klellan.* the calm voice of the Romulan engineer and spy came over the link.

"We've got a Cardassian warship heading our way. Can they have seen us?"

*Impossible, Sir. This device is of the latest design in the Empire. I was involved in it's inception and planning before I was imprisoned. I believe this to be the test model. We are utterly undetectable.*

"Just to be safe, we're shifting position. Any perceived problems with operating impulse engines while under cloak?"

*Just the residual trail they will leave. That's if the Science Officer on board is smart enough to think to scan for them.*

Marius sat silent for a moment, lost in thought.

"What if... we used maneuvering jets instead of impulse power?"

*Still, it would leave a trail, but I believe they would even be less likely to scann for it.*

"Helm, move us out of their way, maneuvering jets only."

Lia Stronn sat at the controls, and nodded, while making the necessary adjustments. Having the experience of the former Line Admiral aboard, gave them a chance at survival in this game. One considerably higher than they would have had without him.

"Firing jets now, Commander." the Counselor said quietly.

Marius gripped his seat, as the ancient ship shuddered and began to move slowly out of the way of the approaching Cardassian vessel. At an agonizing pace, the Star Tiger pirouetted and settled in below and behind the enemy's new orbit.

"Now we wait some more." the old man said dryly, staring intently at the viewscreen.

*****************************************************************

"Level K, block 20." Lestan said, in flawless Cardassian. His crew looked at him, impressed. "Just a talent. I pick up and remember languages very easily." The Captain shrugged.

"Thank goodness for hobbies." Kirk smiled, flexing his hands.

"Now remember, everyone. This level will be more heavily guarded. Shoot first, ask questions later. Your hesitation could mean the death of one of us, or the prisoner." Lestan said seriously.

"Oooooh, I don't think you have to worry about that, Sir." Thomas Grave grinned evilly. He unholstered his phaser and set it to kill.

The lift slowed to a stop.

"We're heeeeeeerrrrrrreeeeeee." Kirk whispered queitly, and the doors slid open.

*****************************************************************

"Sensor scans show nothing, Sir." the young officer said, nervously. Rocking back and forths on his heels, hands clasped behind his back, the senoir officer spoke.

"Scan for impulse trails."

"But Sir, if they're not within sensor range..."

"What if they're cloaked, Nosohn?" the older man smiled.

"Federation ships do not use cloaking devices!"

"So they tell us. Scan for impulse residues."

"Yes sir." the younger man turned to his consol and work feverishly for a moment. He checked, then double checked his findings. Bringing the Proktos here for no reason was bad enough. Making any more mistakes with sensor readings would cost him his place on the bridge, he was sure. Plus other... censures.

"No evidence of impulse engine operation at these coordinates for... twenty minutes! There was something here!"

"May still be here." the officer said, looking over the younger man's shoulder at the readings.

"Very odd. Those are not standard Federation engine readings. They almost seem Romulan."

"Perhaps the Romulan ship assisting the Plevok, brought another?"

"Pehaps. But I hardly think so. Scan the area for residuals we know are left by their cloaking device." the officer stepped back,

still watching over the younger man's shoulder.

*****************************************************************

A red-alert type alarm sounded the lights had dimmed considerably on Level K. Four sets of invasion suppression troops had been sent in through the service tunnels. None had reported back, upon reaching the prison level. Making matters worse, the computers were down, which meant that communications were off line also. Above the Cardassian base, two warships were in orbit, and they could not be contacted. Even communicators seemed to be blocked.

Thomas Grave worked feverishly at the cell door which blocked them from their objective. One officer had managed to hit the control for fire supression, dropping blast doors in front of all of the cells. Selon had dropped him a second too late. Swearing loudly to himself, the former smuggler had the wall-plate off and was trying to establish an electrical connection to open the doors. It was not working.

"Here, let me try." Tzardoz rumbled, just behind the human.

"Be my guest, Greenie." the Ensign said, moving out of the way.

Grimly, the massive Gorn heaved back and slammed his fist into the door. A dent appeared. He repeated the process again. And again. And yet again. Finally, George Kirk stepped forward, and around the now bleeding lizard. Though incredibly strong, the alien CSO was not invulnerable.

"Enough, Lieutenant. Let me give it the ol' college try." the fledgling vampire grunted.

"Yes sir." the Gorn stepped back impatiently. George stepped close to the door.

"Hello in there! Move to the side of the cell. I'm coming in."

Kirk stepped back and slammed his fists and forearms into the blast doors. The metal shrieked and moaned, giving way considerably. The others stood in shock and surprise as the ancient Starfleet officer reached into the cracks in the door to gain purchase, and ripped them from their moorings. He turned and looked at Tzardoz, a big smile on his face.

"Good job, Lieutenant! You really loosened those babies up!"

"Uh... yes Sir. Thank you, Sir." Tzardoz mumbled, watching perplexedly, as a mere human smashed his way through Dura-steel blast doors.

As Kirk and Selon entered the room, which was dark, the noticed a form crumpled in the corner. Quickly, the Vulcan science officer moved forward, drawing a medical scanner from her belt. She ran it over the form.

"We are here just in time. There is not much left of this one to save." she said, with uncharacteristic bitterness.

"Is he stable enough to move?" Kirk asked sharply, kneeling beside the unconscious man.

"I would say, rather, we cannot do any more harm to him than has already been done."

"Fair enough." George gathered the form up in his arms and stood. "Lets get the hell out of here."

*****************************************************************

"Sir, there is evidence of some sort of cloaking device in the area. It is not exactly Romulan, but it has most of the major characteristics." Nosohn frowned, pouring over his sensor readings.

"Flood the area with a tachyon particle burst. If there's a cloaked vessel in the area, will be able to read its outline with the sensors." the officer said.

"Yes Sir." the younger man bent to his task.

*****************************************************************

"Welcome back, everyone!" transporter chief smiled, then looked at the injured man being carried by George Kirk. "Kyle to sickbay, beaming one injured directly to you." he quickly reversed the beam on one pad, and the two parties vanished, while Lestan and the rest trotted off the platform.

"Darkraven to bridge."

*West here. Damn good thing you're back. We've got a Cardassian warship in the area and he's reeeeaaally anxious to make our acquaintence.*

"On my way." the captain turned and headed for the doors, he stopped short, the rest of the rescue team bunching up behind him.

"Tzardoz..."

"Yes Sir?"

"Report to sickbay and get those injuries attended to."

"Yes Sir." the Gorn almost sighed. Time for another go-round with Doctor Franken.

*****************************************************************

"We have them Sir!" Nosohn shouted, drawing the deck officer's attention.

"Identity?" the man asked calmly, ignoring the other's excitement.

"It appears to be an older class of Federation vessel. Excelsior?" he replied, quickly scrolling through the directory of enemy configurations.

The officer grunted.

"Well over a century old. Outfitted with a cloaking device. Contact the base." he turned and gestured to the communications officer.

The man frowned as he worked with the console.

"Sir, I am getting no response to my hails."

A grim look came over the officer's face.

"Lock all weapons on the Federation vessel and fire."

*****************************************************************

"Sheilds up!" Marius roared, milli-seconds before the Star Tiger was rocked by a blast from the Cardassian ship.

The turbo-lift doors opened, admitting Lestan and the rest of the bridge crew.

"What's going ON Marius?" the Captain asked, skittering down to the deck.

"They flooded the area with tachyon particles and locked on our outline." the old man spat.

"Ah well. Sometimes the oldest tricks are still the best." Lestan smiled, as the former Line-Admiral rose and moved to the side, as another blast dissipated against their shields.

"Lestan to O'Mara."

*O'Mara here, Sir.*

"Drop the cloak."

*Sir?*

"Drop the cloak. They know we're here, it's superfluous at this point." the captain said serenely.

*Complying.*

The form of the Star Tiger shimmered and faded into view, facing the Cardassian warship.

*****************************************************************

"Why are they still here?" the officer murmured, looking at the blazingly bright image of the Star Tiger, glowing on his forward viewer.

"Sir, I am reading an incredible level of energy output from that vessel." Nosohn said nervously.

"Explain."

"It almost looks as if..." the younger man never got a chance to finish, as the Proktos was rocked by a blast from the Federation ship. The lights went out, and sparks flew from all around the bridge.

"Why weren't our shields up?!" the officer roared from the darkness. Above the groaning of the injured crew, and the hissing of destroyed electrical equipment, Nosohn called out the reply.

"Shields WERE up, Sir."

*****************************************************************

"Damage report on the Cardassian vessel?" the Captain asked.

"Warp drive, down. Impulse, down. Sheilds, down. Weapons, down. Life support, down." Grave replied, wolfishly.

"Good. Plot a course for the Illiad. I assume that by now, they'll be needing our help." Lestan smirked.

"Plotted and ready, Sir."

"Captain to O'Mara."

*Galen here.* came back the crisp reply.

"How are we down there, Chief?"

*Fresh as the Mornin' Dew, Sir. What do you require?*

"TransWarp?"

*REAlllllly? Your wish is my command!*

"Thank you. Lestan out."

*****************************************************************

Gavrilov wiped a trail of sweat from his forehead, and hung grimly onto the arms of his command chair. Around him, several of the crew were injured, and he was rapidly losing power to shipboard systems. He estimated he would be able to last barely a few more minutes.

"Computer, bring up protocols for ship-wide self-destruct." the man said grimly.

"Sir, I have a text only message coming in! It's from the Star Tiger!"

"Read it."

"Base invaded. Prisoner recovered. On our way to your position. Signed Captain Lestan Darkraven and company."

"Oh just wonderful. Now not just one ship gets destroyed, but two."

On the viewscreen before them, a Romulan vessel vanished in a bright explosion. Instantly, two of the Cardassians whirled to meet the new attacker.

"What the hell was that?!?" Gavrilov gaped.

"Sir, the Star Tiger is here. They have apparently destroyed the Romulan reinforcement vessel."

"With what?!?"

"Well, Sir, it appeared to be some sort of phaser `shotgun.' "

"That's still on the R&D boards! How the hell did THEY get it!?!?"

*****************************************************************

"Ooooooo. Impressive shooting, Lieutenant." the captain said, watching the burning bits of desbris from the Romulan ship.

"Thank you, Captain." the Gorn rumbled.

"Cardassian ships turning from the Illiad, Sir. They're locking on our position." Grave said, tightly.

"Sheilds to triple redundancy." the vampire replied, an unnatural calmness in his voice.

"Done, Sir." Kiko chirped, as the Star Tiger wobbled slightly from the combined salvo of half a dozen phaser blasts.

"Wow. Barely felt that." George Kirk commented, obviously impressed.

"Yes indeed. I'd say Galen and the engineering crew have outdone themselves." Lestan replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Helm, full about, I want a momentary shot to TransWarp, bringing us up behind their tails, then a full photon torpedo spread a second later."

"Yes Sir." Thomas Grave fairly smiled, hunched over the helm console. Tzardoz' toothy grin also seemed to express approval of the captain's order. The Star Tiger jerked, and leapt into TransWarp, a millisecond later, appearing behind the line of Cardassian warships. The Gorn roared triumphantly as he released a volley of torpedoes into their unsuspecting rears. The small fleet rocked and tumbled perilously, and struggled to come about to confront the attack from a new quarter. But the Excelsior class ship was already gone and attacking from a different quarter.

*****************************************************************

"What the hell is going on out there?" The captain of the Illiad whispered, watching the ancient Federation Battlecruiser winking in and out of existence, seemingly everywhere at once.

"Captain, I know this is impossible, but is seems they have a TransWarp drive on board. And it's actually working!" a helmsman muttered, wiping sweat and blood from before his eyes.

"Can we get warp drive back on line and get the hell out of here?" he barked, eyes glued to the prancing and dancing battle going on before him.

"Engineering says we need twenty minutes to effect minimal repairs. We'll have limited warp capability."

"Notify Darkraven on the Star Tiger. See if he can keep them busy for that long."

"Yes sir."

*****************************************************************

"Incoming message from the Illiad, Captain." Tzardoz rumbled.

"It says?"

"Captain Gavrilov wants to know if we can hold them off for twenty minutes while they effect repair of their warp drive."

Lestan chuckled and leaned forward, a predatory gleam in his eye.

"By that time, you may tell him, the Cardassians will be so much space dust."

*****************************************************************

Down in Engineering, Galen O'Mara ran about, pell mel, barely avoiding collision with his men, who were all scurrying at the same rate of speed as himself. Even with the help of a starbase computer, and the ancient alien program called Dalek, it was a major undertaking, keeping the reams of strange equipment working together smoothly. With so many different technologies represented, something was bound to happen. When it finally did, it was a malfunction of the basest manner.

"OH SHIT!!!!!" an Ensign screamed, caught near an exploding power coupling. Instantly, weapons systems shut down, TransWarp shut down, the shields fell to the levels they had been designed at over a century ago.

White faced, Galen looked at the damage. The cable he had spliced together days ago, had burned through and exploded. Two violently sparking ends flailed about the engineering deck and several of his men had already been injured.

"Engineering to sickbay! I need medical assistance down here RIGHT NOW!"

*Galen, this is Lestan, what the hell happened? We've lost everything up here!*

"I've got a cable burned through Captain! Pumping so much energy through these old systems, something was bound to happen sooner or later. I'll get right on it, but it's going to take me some time."

On the bridge, Darkraven's face was set in a grim mask. The Cardassian ships were regrouping. There was no time. Without shields, they would be destroyed in seconds. He had a decision to make.

"Marius, you have the bridge." the Captain said, rising.

"Where the hell do you think YOU'RE going?" the old man roared, moving to face the CO.

"To engineering. There's no time for Galen to repair the damage. I must do it." and the Captain of the Star Tiger, in full view of a staring bridge crew, dissolved into mist and vanished through the deck plates. Marius' jaw dropped, and he sat heavily in the command seat.

"What the hell?" Thomas Grave whispered.

"Vampire." George Kirk smiled, showing his teeth.

*****************************************************************

Lestan coalesced in engineering, standing near to Galen. The engineer nearly jumped out of his skin, as he turned to yell at a crewman and found his captain beside him.

"Where's the break?" the vampire said serenely, his eyes sweeping the scurrying forms on the engineering deck.

"Over there. I have men pulling on handling suits so they can grab the ends of the cable and reconnect them. We're going as fast as we can."

"I have no doubt. Unfortunately, Chief, it's not fast enough."

Lestan strode toward the two wildly snapping and crackling cables.

"Sir what are you... NO!" Galen screamed in horror as Lestan bent over and grasped both ends of the break, drawing them together. His hair stood on end, his facial muscles jerked into a death's head grimace and he started to smoke. At the same instant, power came back up across the board.

*****************************************************************

"Fire!" Marius said, looking at the Cardassian warships, heading for them.

"Yes sir!" Tzardoz hissed, his large, scaley hands dancing across the weapons console. Large hiccup-like bursts of energy flew from the Star Tiger's phaser banks. In quick succession, four ships detonated in firey, nova-like explosions. The fifth ship rocked and tumbled out of the way, trying to move into position to continue the battle.

"Boy, these guys don't know when to give up!" Kiko murmured, watching the forward viewer.

"Bring us around again, Mr. Grave. They're trying for superior positioning, and I don't intend that we should let them have it." the old man in the captain's chair snarled.

"Yes sir. Coming about." the ensign said, hands dancing across the controls.

The Star Tiger lurched and shook, moving sluggishly in response to the helm's command.

"What's wrong?" Marius asked, straightening up and holding onto his seat, as the old ship vibrated.

"Something with the Inertial Dampeners. They're only operating at eighty percent." Selon replied.

"Can you bring them back up? We'll shake ourselves to pieces if this keeps up."

Selon worked over the engineering console for a moment before replying.

"It would seem this is a repair that must be affected from Engineering, Commander."

"Then go, Lieutenant. We need to buy the Illiad a bit more time, then we have to get the hell out of here before Cardassian reinforcements show up."

"Understood. I'm on my way." The beautiful Vulcan woman stood and moved off into the turbo-lift.

Marius turned his attention back to his enemy.

"Okay, Mr. Grave, keep us between them and the Illiad. We'll provide that big bitch with cover for as long as she needs." he stared at the limping vessel on the viewscreen.

"Yes Sir."

*****************************************************************

Galen O'Mara was loudly losing his mind in Engineering. He and three other men were struggling to install a secondary power cable to replace the one the their captain was holding together. Lestan had fallen to his knees, his flesh burned a sickly brown color, what was left of his hair stood straight out on long patches. He shook like a man palsied, which was an amazement in itself; the power of a starship was coursing through his body and he was still alive. The Chief screamed almost hysterically at his men, moving them along as fast as possible in the placing of the jumper cable. It was upon this scene, that Selon entered the room. She took one look at the Captain and tapped her commm badge.

"Selon to Doctor Franken."

*This is Franken, what have you got for me?*

"Doctor, I believe your presence will be immediately required in Engineering. The Captain is in... dire trouble." the vulcan said, having a struggle to keep the emotions she was feeling from dominating her.

*On my way.* the older woman said curtly.

A moment later, Doctor Jane Franken materialized in Engineering. She took one look at Lestan and gasped. The vampire's skin, now almost black, had shrunken to his bones, and was cracked and smoking. No more blood poured from his body, as it seemed there was none left to give. Still, Darkraven held the cables together, eyes rolled back in his head, shaking and twitching like a leaf in a hurricane.

"We've almost got it!" Galen shrieked, over the sound of his commanding officer being crudely electrocuted. "Just another few seconds!"

Jane moved quickly to the comm unit mounted on the wall.

"This is Jane Franken. I want nine pints of blood replicated, STAT."

*What type, Doctor?*

"IT DOESN'T MATTER." the woman snarled, "Any type! Just do it now. I want it in a large bucket, and make sure that it's at ninty-eight point six."

*Yes, Doctor.* the puzzled voice said.

"Computer."

*Yes, Doctor Franken?* Dalek's , voice came over the unit now.

"I need emergeny bulkhead sheilds put in place in a straight line from here to the turbolift, and then from the lift to sickbay."

*Complying. May I inquire as to the nature of this request?*

"When Lestan drops those cables, he's going to be totally drained of blood. He won't be rational, at best. He's going to grab the nearest blood source and drain it immediately. I'm going to make sure it's under controlled conditions in MY Sickbay."

*Admirable thinking, Doctor.*

"Thanks. Get ready on my mark." the woman turned away and looked at the engineering crew. The cable was going into a socket just as she finished speaking. Lestan stopped shaking, and dropped unmoving to the floor. Several people moved towards him.

"GET BACK! DON'T GO NEAR HIM!!" the older woman bellowed. The crewmen jumped and backed off. On the floor, Lestan stirred feebly.

"Now." the doctor said, watching the ancient vampire struggle to rise. "Everyone, get out of sight, now!" she said, motioning with her hands. Instantly, the engineering crew ducked behind whatever piece of equipment was closest to them. The only ones in sight were Selon and the Doctor.

"How fast a runner are you?" Jane asked, eyeing the wobbly, shrunken thing that was the captain.

"Quite. Why?"

"Because you and I are elected to run ahead of him and draw his bloodlust to sickbay." the gray haired woman grabbed the Vulcan's arm and pulled her towards the door. Lestan was on his feet, drawing breaths in great, painful gasps. He looked truly like the living dead. There was no hint of humanity in his eyes.

"What about when we get to the lift?!" the science officer asked.

"Oh, I expect he'll follow us up." they began to move faster, as Lestan smelled their blood.

"What if he stops on another deck!?"

"He can't. I told Dalek to make a one way path from here to sickbay. We'd better run now, I think he's got the scent." Jane turned and bolted down the corridor, Selon right behind. Lestan shrieked and half shambled, half ran after them.

*****************************************************************

Marius West hung grimly on to the command chair, and the Star Tiger vibrated violently and spun on her axis, belching out great balls of phased energy. The Cardassian ship had become smart enough to try avoiding the blasts, instead of meeting them head on. This strategy seemed to work much better than facing the destructive force being generated by the ancient Federation starship.

"Inertial Dampening still at eighty percent." Grave called, jockeying deftly around the bulk of the Illiad.

"What the hell is happening down there, Selon?" the old commander growled into the com link.

*I am currently involved in luring the Captain to sickbay, Commander. Perhaps you could contact Chief O'Mara, and ask him to undertake the repair?* the Lieutenant's voice panted.

"Why the hell do you have to lure Lestan to sickbay?" Marius asked, puzzled.

*Because he's in deep bloodlust right now, and he can't respond to rational thought. Otherwise, I'd ask him nicely to accompany me to sickbay!* Jane Franken wheezed.

"Do you two need help?"

*Oh no. We'll be fine. Just get us away from these damn Cardassians!* the doctor growled.

*Doctor, he's coming...* Selon said, her voice rising in pitch slightly.

*Oh, hells bells. Damn slow lifts... Franken out.*

The Commander sat there, a stupefied expression on his face.

"Well..." he said dryly, "isn't that special."

"I'd better go help them." George Kirk said, looking at Marius.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea."

"Uh, let's see, how'd he do that?" the Commander muttered, and frowned. A moment later, he turned to vapor and vanished.

"I dislike it when they do that." Tzardoz shuddered.

"I think it's rather erotic." Lia Stronn purred.

"Oh, I bet you do." Marius quirked an eyebrow in the direction of the ship's councellor.

"Commander, the Illiad reports her warp drive is up and running. They want to know if we want them to hang around while we destroy the last Cardassian ship." Kiko Todesku said.

"Inform Captain Gavrilov that we will be following them shortly, but by all means, they may get their asses out of here. Use those exact words."

The little oriental woman blushed.

"Yes sir."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Jane Franken and Selon reached the Sickbay doors well before the incoherent Captain cleared the lift. They found George Kirk waiting for them.

"What took you so long? I was beginning to get worried."

The gray haired doctor looked at the fledgling vampire in irritation.

"I ought to just let him suck YOU dry... get in here, quick."

"What? I can handle him." the ancient officer appeared offended as they entered the sickbay.

"Sure you can. Be realistic. As strong as you are, your strength is only a fraction of his. And right now, he's out of his mind, and stronger than usual. He'd probably just tear your head off and drink you."

"I don't think so."

"Well then YOU stay out here. I don't want to find out. Now get behind those shields. The blood ready?" Franken roared, her staff skittering at the sound of her bellow.

"Y-yes, Doctor Franken." an orderly said, coming forward with a large container, filled to the brim with steaming red liquid.

"Mmmmmmmmmm." George sniffed the air deliciously and licked his lips.

"That's not for you." she said promptly shouldering the vampire out of the way. "Be on standby, I might need another batch."

"Uhhhh, okay." George said, not sure whether to take the woman seriously or not. He turned in time to see the sickbay doors swish open, and a mangled and burnt thing lurch in.

"My god." he whispered, "how can he be alive?"

"He's not, dunce. And neither are you, for that matter." the doctor said dryly.

From behind secure force shielding, they watched as the captain spotted the bucket of human blood placed conveniently in the middle of the open floor. He staggered towards it, and fell face first into it. The red liquid splashed messily, as Lestan immersed his entire head and proceeded to inhale the entire nine pints in just under a second. He gasped and raised his head, eyes closed, hair drenched in blood. The entire group watched as the blood absorbed itself straight into his skin. Lestan shuddered.

"Another batch! Make it snappy." Jane roared, sending the nurses skittering towards the back of the sickbay.

"Speed... is not necessary... Doctor. I... am coming... to myself." Lestan rasped, leaning over the bucket.

"Better safe than sorry, Captain. Here, blood-boy, take this out to your commanding officer." the woman growled, handing another container to George.

"What about him ripping my head off and all that?" George hesitated.

"Oh well. Ya win some, ya lose some."

"Thanks, Doc."

"Welcome."

*****************************************************************

On board the Cardassian warship Nerefer, Gol Barvot sat in his badly listing command seat, and surveyed the bridge of his practically destroyed ship. All but two of his command personnel were dead or wounded severely. He knew a core breach was imminent, and they could no longer fight the Federation super-ship. Tiredly, the old man rubbed his forehead with one bloody hand. He had had a long career. Not distinguished to any great extent, but he had served his empire faithfully and without reservation. Even now, though he knew further resistance to be futile, he would still do what he knew to be required of him.

"Prepare a message buoy. Send a transcript of this battle, and all sensor readings we have of THAT." he gestured at the Star Tiger, on his viewscreen.

"Sir, they do not appear to be continuing the attack..."

"I know, Kerl." the old man said tiredly, "But I cannot let that ship leave this quadrant. It must be destroyed. Even if it means our own deaths."

The two younger men turned and stared at their commanding officer.

The man sitting at the weapons station nodded.

"I will begin preparation of the self destruct device."

"Thank you, Hargian." Barvot said quietly. Then the Gol touched the armrest of his command chair.

"This is Gol Barvot on the bridge. Is anyone alive in Engineering?"

There was silence, except for the sound of flames crackling. Then, a weak voice, filled with pain, yet also with determination spoke.

*Yes... I am still alive...*

"And you are...?" the bloodied officer asked, looking suprised.

*... Dinac... sub-junior engineering officer...* the voice responded, after a moment.

"Well, Cheif Engineer Dinac, I need to ask one last task of you. I want every ounce of power you can give me, shunted into the tractor beam."

*... At your command, Sir. It... will take me a moment... to get to the proper station... my legs...* the voice trailed off, overtaken by pain.

"As quickly as you can Dinac. It will be enough. Your promotion and heroism will be listed in the log before we send it. Your family will be well provided for." Gol Barvot said, his old voice almost breaking.

*... Thank you... sir. Dinac... out.*

His eyes brimming with tears, the Gol looked at the hated Federation vessel on the screen. Whatever the demon ship was, it would not be able to get away from a point blank anti-matter reaction.

"Gol Barvot, the bouy is ready."

"Thank you, Kerl. Please launch it, then."

The younger man labored over the half destroyed controls.

"Buoy away."

"I have the self destruct sequence keyed up, Sir. We have only to activate it with your voice command." Hargian said, looking up from his own labors.

"Very good. Now, if Dinac can just get the tractor beam working."

"I assume, Sir, that you intend to lock us together and blow the warp core?" Hargian asked, busying himself.

"Yes. That is my general idea." the old man said, leaning back in the dangerously creaking chair.

"A sound plan. Not the we any of us would have preferred to go, I'm sure..." Kerl almost laughed.

"Most certainly not. I wanted to retire and spend time with my wife and grandchildren." Barvot sighed. The intercom crackled. The sounds of fire from engineering were much worse, and the Gol could

barely hear the voice of Dinac.

*... It is... done. hurry... it will not last long.*

"Kerl! Lock tractor beams on that ship! Hargian, activate the self destruct code."

*****************************************************************

"Sir, the Cardassian ship is locking onto us with tractor beams."

Kiko frowned, looking at her console.

"Oh hell. They're going to blow the warp core. Grave, back us away." Marius said, sitting up straight in the command chair.

"Working on it." the over-age Ensign said sharply.

"Reading a massive buildup in their engine room, Commander." Tzardoz sang out.

"Thomas..."

"Can't back away at impulse Sir, they've got us too securely!"

"West to Engineering!"

*Klellan here.*

"I need TransWarp, right now!"

*Understood.*

"NOW KLELLAN!!!"

The bridge crew watched as the shape of the Cardassian ship began to glow. Quickly, the ship reached critical mass, and as it exploded, the Star Tiger leapt into TransWarp. A millisecond later, the twitchy engines hiccuped, and they dropped to sublight, right behind the Illiad, who had stopped when they registered the explosion of the Nerefer. Without being asked, Grave slammed the impulse drives into reverse, in time to stop a collision with the larger ship. Unfortunately, with the Inertial Dampers partially malfunctioning, it was a slightly bumpy stop.

"Good job, Ensign." The commander said, from his position on the deck. "Lieutenant Tzardoz?"

"Yes sir?"

"You are extremely heavy. Please get OFF of me!" the old man wheezed, from the bottom of the pile.

"Yes Sir."

*****************************************************************

Lestan stood up straight, and attempted to smooth out his destroyed uniform. Most of it had burned up from the enormous amount of power that had been shunted through him. What little was left, barely covered the essentials. Several of the female crew members were looking at the vampire captain with great curiosity. Jane Franken noticed first. She snorted and shook her head.

"Okay, ladies, break it up. Rest assured, undead or not, the equipment all works."

"Doctor!" Lestan gasped in indignation.

"Really!?" George brightened, "Oh goody!"

"Oh no." Jane sighed.

*****************************************************************

On board the Illiad, Anton Gavrilov looked tiredly at the image of the Excelsior class vessel, which had just saved his entire ship and crew. He hated having to eat crow, and it felt like the one he was now swallowing, happened to be turkey-sized.

"Open a channel to that hunk of junk." he growled bitterly.

"Channel open, Captain."

"This is Gavrilov on the Illiad."

The viewer came on, with the image of former Admiral Marius West, sitting in the command chair. He smiled benignly at the crew cut Gavrilov.

*Captain, how good to see you again.* the voice was like an icepick through the eye. Anton Gavrilov had sat on West's court-martial hearing.

"You also, Commander. I wish to formally thank your captain and crew for bailing our fat out of the fire, back there."

*Oh, our pleasure.* West grinned evilly.

Ignoring the look, Gavrilov continued.

"How many did you rescue from the base?"

*One. Records show the rest had been tortured to death.*

"Damn them!" the Captain swore, closing his eyes, "Cardassian butchers."

*One consolation is, they won't be using that base again for a long time.* The old man said, a grim smile on his face.

"Oh? How so?"

*We activated the self destruct device for the base's power plant. It melted down right after we left orbit.*

"You had time to do all that?" the Illiad's CO asked, disbelievingly.

*Certainly. You just have to have the right crew for the job.*

Again, Gavrilov ignored the jab.

"My I offer my thanks to Captain West?"

*... Lestan is indisposed right now. Can I have him get back to you shortly?* West said, the soul of politeness.

"That would be fine, Commander. Thank you." Gavrilov grated.

*Star Tiger, out.*

The screen went dark. The Captain's eyes narrowed and his breathing increased in speed and depth. Finally, he bellowed, startling the members of his bridge crew. Calming down a moment later, he sat back in his chair and stared at the image of the ancient ship on his viewscreen.

"I hate that ship. I hate that crew. Something is not right, and I WILL find out what it is. Then we'll see who's better than who."

*****************************************************************

In Engineering, O'Mara and the Romulan spy cum Starfleet officer Lieutenant Klellan poured over the repairs that were already underway.

"I need a left handed spanner."

"We don't have one." the Romulan replied.

"Well then, replicate one."

"I can't. They're off line right now."

"Why?" Galen asked, turning around.

"We've shunted power in to Dalek's systems, so it could try to make the drive systems work more coherently. It was a programming glitch which dropped us out of TransWarp." Klellan said, looking out from the guts of the Inertial Dampening system.

"Where am I supposed to get a left handed spanner, then?"

"Improvise. As my people would say, `Klingon rig' it."

"Ah."

*****************************************************************

Lestan shrugged into the new uniform, and exited Jane Franken's office, sealing up the front tunic tabs. He looked up, to find the entire Sickbay crew compliment staring at him. Uncomfortably, he looked down at the floor, and moved to the door. George Kirk fell in beside him. The two vampires left together.

"Well, now the fun begins." the elder sighed, rubbing his forehead as they made for the turbolift.

"What do you mean?"

"In very short order, the entire crew is going to know what I am. You have no idea what problems this is going to cause, do you?"

"Not really." Kirk said, "Why don't you tell me?"

The lift doors swished open before them, and the two men entered.

"Bridge." the Captain said shortly, "There are several different reactions, depending on the person. Some, will automatically assume that I am the ultimate incarnation of all evil. Others will want to dissect me and study what makes an immortal man. A significant portion will want to become vampires and thereby gain their own share of immortality."

"Mmmmmm. I see what you're getting at."

"Good. Because we're going to have to find a way to effectively deal with the situation."

"What's this *we* shit, white man?" George chortled.

"As I am, so are you. So, it not so much a *me* problem as a *we* problem." the vampire captain said.

"Hmmmm. Yeah. So, what do we say?"

"We try to appeal to their better natures."

"On THIS crew?!"

"Oh, come now." Lestan said disapprovingly.

"Okay, okay. Maybe one or two have a decent nature. But the rest are borderline at best." the Commander sighed.

"Every person gets a second chance, with me. As soon as I took command of this ship and crew, their slates were wiped clean. Until I see evidence to the contrary, we are going to assume that they ALL have better natures."

George pursed his lips.

"I've got a baaaaad feeling about this."

"Hrumph. You're probably just hungry. Have you fed lately?"

"No, now that you mention it." the other shrugged.

"As soon as shift change is over, we'll grab a bite." Lestan smiled.

"Ooooo. bad pun."

*****************************************************************

Armin Sesok sat silently at his desk. The lights were low, and he had asked not to be disturbed for any reason. It had been fully half a day since the assault on Delibes, and no word had come through official channels. Something had indeed happened on the Cardassian prison world, but they had clamped down on the story. The Admiral was sore afraid that he had lost two good ships. He didn't care what the rest of the Council thought, he knew in his heart that Lestan Darkraven and the crew of the Star Tiger had performed just as bravely in the face of death as had Gavrilov and the Illiad.

The old man ran his hand over a 3D images of a very young Marius West and himself, standing proudly on the bridge of the USS Eastwood. It had been their first assignment. The old Excelsior class vessel was currently in the Federation museum. Her career had been undistinguished, and she had never seen battle. Still, every time he stepped aboard, he experienced the same thrill of excitement, that he had every day of his youth, spent aboard the ship. Marius had been a rank Ensign, assigned to Stellar Cartography. Together, they had caused more mischief and trouble for the old Captain, Scandar Dennok, than any Starfleet officer should have had to deal with.

A single tear ran down the old man's face, as he remembered. Then, the comm unit buzzed for attention. He spun about and slammed it angrily.

"Commander Barclay, I asked NOT to be disturbed!"

*Begging the Admiral's pardon, sir, but there's a message coming in that I think warrants his attention.* Reginald, said stiffly.

"Put it through." Sesok said, spinning back to face his small desk screen. The face that appeared set the old man on his ear. Anton Gavrilov and Lestan Darkraven sat side by side on the bridge of the Illiad. The younger, blonde man's face was lit up in an easy smile, while the older Gavrilov, looked like he had just swallowed a mixture of broken glass and lye.

*Admiral, Captains Gavrilov and Darkraven reporting, Sir.*

Lestan's smile never wavered, as did Anton's scowl.

"Gentlemen! Please, report." the old man said, trying to stifle his shock and pleasure.

*Prisoner recovered. Target objective terminated. Loss of Starfleet personnel minimal.* Gavrilov said tersely.

*Actually, we've gained, in that aspect. In the course of our actions, we have recovered one Commander George Kirk. He was listed as missing in action some, what, hundred and fifty years ago? I reactivated his commission, and he's serving competently with me aboard the Star Tiger.*

"Damage to your vessels?"

*Extensive damage to the Illiad, Sir. We will need at least three months of layover time in a drydock facility.* Anton said, pausing to look at a data PAD that a passing crewman handed to him.

"And the Star Tiger?"

Lestan relaxed and lounged back in the seat which he occupied.

*None, Sir. We're still picking a few bugs out of the system, but overall, we're in fine shape. In fact, I've offered to tow the Illiad in, to save time on getting a tug out here to pick them up.* the man motioned languidly about the bridge upon which he sat. Armin could almost hear Gavrilov's teeth grinding together at the suggestion.

"Congratulations, gentlemen. Proceed, posthaste back here. There are some people who will want to thank you." the old man smiled, and burst out laughing, as Marius West wandered into view, behind the two captains. He stood behind Anton Gavrilov and made faces. The Illiad's CO looked puzzled, but did not turn about. Lestan grinned wanly, and without looking, waved a finger at his Exec.

*Understood, Sir. Gavrilov and Darkraven, out.*

The screen went back to the Federation test screen, and Armin Sesok flopped back in his chair. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't WAIT to stick this one up the Council's gigs.

*****************************************************************

"Done." Klellan said, in the closest thing to a cheerful tone, that O'Mara had ever heard him use.

"Good. How about the software end of the problem?" the chief engineer addressed empty air.

*Also done. I have rewritten most of the ships systems programming, so that it operates smoother, cleaner and takes up much less memory. It leaves much more room for me!* the sentient program chuckled.

"Great. Well, you'll have to tutor me in it's repair. If something happens to you, I don't want to be stuck with a core problem that I can't fix." Galen said, walking across the deck, clucking to himself.

*With triple and in some cases quadruple redundancy failsafes, I very much doubt that eventuality.* Dalek replied.

"Better to be safe than sorry. Or, so I've heard you humans say."

Klellan added, following the human to look at the singularity containment unit.

O'Mara paused and scrutinized the readings. He clucked some more and nodded his head.

"What?"

"I'm amazed at how much power this thing is putting out. You really know your business, don't you?"

The Romulan shrugged, and partly smiled.

"In the Empire, one's path is chosen for you. It's best to learn very quickly, and be very good at what you're given. I just happened to like what I was given. Believe me, in our society, it's a rarity."

"Well, you're here now, and the Federation doesn't work that way."

O'Mara stated, putting a hand firmly on the former spy's shoulder.

"After release from your prison camp, I appreciate that fact." Klellan grinned.

"Sorry about that. Sometimes we're a wee bit overzealous."

"Oh, not at all! I was indeed spying. And compared to a Romulan camp, Federation prison was more like a luxury vacation."

"Well, in that case, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." the two men laughed.

*****************************************************************

Lestan sat in his quarters and waited. He was relaxing in his favorite robe, sitting before a small table. Cross-legged on the floor, he meditated in front of the wavering flame of a large candle. He sighed when the door chimed. Beyond the barrier, was a very anxious, nervous Marius West. It was time for the questioning to start.

"Come in, Marius." the vampire said, rising fluidly to his feet.

The door slid open to reveal the started former Admiral.

"... Am I disturbing you, Sir?"

"Not a bit. And don't call me sir. Come in and have a seat."

Lestan smiled and gestured. Hesitantly, the old man entered the room.

"Relax, Marius. I have fed. And besides, I don't indiscriminately feed on my Executive officers." the ancient vampire chuckled.

"So, you admit what you are?" Marius said, entering the room cautiously.

"Of course. Why would I not? There is no law in these times stating that being a vampire is any sort of crime." Lestan replied, moving to the replicator unit.

"Samuel Adams. Thirty-three degree Fahrenheit."

"I thought you could only drink blood!"

"You are correct. This," the Captain took the mug and carried it across the room, "is for you."

"I was thinking I could use a beer, but... oh." Marius's mental shields dropped into place.

"Very good, Commander. If I had a reason to pick your mind, those shields might present me some problem. But, I do not, and have no intention of doing so. Now, can we not both relax and talk about this situation like reasonable adults?"

The mortal sat on the couch, opposite his commanding officer, who settled to the floor, behind the flame of the flickering candle.

"Very good. Now, I assume you have questions you'd like answered." Lestan said.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

*****************************************************************

I was born into mortal life in the year of our Lord, 1745. Unlike another famous vampire of the time, I was not born into a noble house, I was but a peasant, laboring in the fields of the King. Longing for a better life meant little or nothing to most of us. This was what we were born to do, and dreaming of else, was a waste of effort. So, I think you could say, I was a rather unimaginative child. As a young man, I left my father's household, and went to find my fortune abroad.

Eventually, I ended up in the United States (which was of course, at the time, still a British possession). I was just in time for the start of the Revolution and found my fortune in being a fighter for the freedom forces of the ill-equipped Continental Army. For some odd reason, I found an aptitude for battle, and distinguished myself well in several early engagements. So well, that I became a target. For the British army, and... other things.

I had just received a commendation from General Washington, on the nineteenth of October, 1766. It was a dual celebration, really. The commendation, and my twenty-first birthday. My men proudly took me to the local Pub and we drank 'til the wee hours of the morning. It was almost dawn when I began the ride back to the Bunker House where my men slept. The rest had opted to stay in rooms at the Pub, but I felt, as leader of the unit that it was my responsibility to be with my men.

So, I left the safety of my friends and ventured out into the night by myself. The lane I chosen to ride upon was dark and infrequently used. So much the better, as I was more than slightly mortified about the state I had let myself get into. In fact I was so preoccupied with my own inebriation, that I did not feel the other presence that was with me, 'til it was far too late. He stood there, at the entrance to a graveyard. The hood and cloak he wore was ratty, and even from a distance, carried the smell of the grave. My horse sensibly balked at the presence and tried to shy away in a different direction. Being the drunken lout that I was, I manhandled the beast back in the direction I wished to go, and continued on past the silent apparition. I nodded politely, and tipped my hat, hoping that the Brother didn't realize my state of intoxication. I was religious, as were the peasants of the time. It was only much later that I lost that particular aspect of my upbringing.

I didn't see it, as it leapt upon me, in passing. But my poor horse berserked, and threw me and the clinging figure to the ground as he bolted away. I cursed and swore, struggling with the Brother, as we rolled about on the ground. Then, it laughed, and I knew what had me.

It was no religious. It was not even alive.

"VAMPI..." I started to shriek, before a filthy hand closed over my mouth. My breathing was stifled 'til I passed out.

When I awoke, it was still night out. I could tell, though I did not know how. I was surrounded by figures, all dressed in the filthy robes of my attacker. None spoke aloud at the time, though I knew that must have been as he. I did not beg or plead for my life. I knew that with such as they, it would mean very little. So, instead, I waited.

One by one, the creatures settled down around my little bier, and went into their catatonic trance which heralded the sunrise. Except for one. This one stood in the shadows and watched, as the group fell into slumber. Only when nothing else moved, did he make his appearance. He was ancient, I could tell, even by the standards of those whom were the leaders of the coven (as I came to know them). His name was... Cain. He told me a story that, to this day, I do not want to believe. He was the first son of Adam, so he said. From the original biblical tale. Cursed he was, by God, for the death of Able, his brother. Cain would walk the Earth 'til the end of time, to atone for fratricide. A mark was placed upon him, so that all others would know of his crime, and would leave him to himself. So was born the race of evil creatures which swept the world. For Cain did not repent his crime, but wallowed in his viciousness, allowing it to fester and grow. He found he had cravings for which he had no name, and could easily pass them on to others. And so, he wandered, passing this evil wherever he went. For millennia, it had no name, but those he passed the mark to, were cursed with a need for the darkness, and could endure no sustenance save blood. Somewhere along the line, our kind became known as vampires. To my knowledge, we own our existence to Cain. There have been other definitive histories written, pointing to other origins, but these are ruses, strewn as chaff through the wheat, by the Father of us all.

Back to my conversion. He told me that those in the Coven had begged for his blood. He made no secret of the fact that he had not made another one of us in some millennia. And, this one fact at least, holds true through all of the different stories that have been written of us; as we grow older, our blood grows much more powerful. Over time, we can create fledglings of immense power. Or, if we create too many, they will be weak, almost mortal in their strengths and abilities. Cain had created no new children in over five thousand years. The coven wanted him to empower them with his substance. They wished to start a war, to take over the daytime world and make it safe for their nocturnal kind. For some reason, Cain refused. It was almost as if, after so long wandering, he had begun to show signs of a Conscience. That is why he was determined to create me.

The Coven had captured me as an offering to him. But as food, he would not use me. Instead, in me, he intended to create a force that would fight all of the evil he had created in eons past. Needless to say, I was not eager to become the crusading champion of the Father of all Vampires. I had my own battles to fight at the time, and said as much. He laughed, and said that the piddling war I was involved in now, would end shortly. And then, where would I be? I had to admit, I had no answer. I paused and thought. Actually, I thought myself insufferably bright, as the sun would be rising and moment, and my captor would be forced to sleep like his children's children. Cain chuckled, for he also could read minds. He said that his stamina far outstretched that of these striplings. He could stay awake during the daylight hours if he so chose. My plan of escape would avail me naught. Again he asked, what would I do? What plans did I have for my future? I had none. He offered me a greater purpose. His vision for his own redemption. I was to chase down all of those whom he had created, and destroy those which were inherently evil. I said that would have to be all of them, since what good person in their right mind would submit to such and act? He smiled and moved to me. I do not remember the actual act of being made. I do remember my outrage and disgust that I felt some passion in it.

When I came to my senses again, Cain was gone, and my bonds were loosened. Either that, or my new strength was a factor. For I snapped them like threads and rose from the bed they had bound me to. I realized that the sun had come and gone, and that soon enough, the Coven would arise. They would be enraged that their revered one had made me, instead of giving his gift to them. I made a decision. Quickly, I grabbed two pieces of wood and rubbed them vigorously together. They fairly burst into flame in my hands. Then, I went around the room, lighting whatever I came across that looked combustible. In moments, the whole place was a conflagration. I raced out the entryway, and winced as the dying light of the sun struck my face. I had no choice, I had to leave. Quickly, I tore down several grave markers and lay the heavy blocks across the entrance to the Coven's tomb. As I turned to leave, I heard the first screams of those awakening inside, to find themselves aflame. It mattered not to me, as I knew that my maker was long gone. I turned, and fled from the graveyard. Out in the already darkening lane, I looked about, wildly. I had no idea where to go, or what to do. Then, unbidden, it came to me. I went back to my unit. Resumed my duties, and became the greatest planner and executor of the nighttime campaign that the Revolution had ever seen. As we traveled in battle, I eliminated each cell of vampires that I found. Very few had ever tried to employ their abilities for good. I myself, spent some time debating over the morality of taking human life. Any human life, even that of an evildoer, was, I was taught, sacred. I suffered each time I took a life, no matter how bad that life had been. Somehow, it seemed different to me, in battle. As an officer, I was very rarely fighting on the front lines. The fact was recognized that I was much too valuable to have holed by a bullet. Ah, if they had only known!

The centuries flew by quickly for me, and, unlike some, I never sought the comfort of the dark earth. I lived and learned, grew and changed with the times. My past has never left me. Sometimes, there are parts of it that give even me, nightmares. In any event, the centuries all seemed to run together after that. Before I knew it, some of us had escaped into space. Rather than face and fight their executioner, they chose instead to go elsewhere, in the off chance that alien blood was just as nourishing as human. Well, it is. Though I must admit, it is a bit of an acquired taste. So, I left Earth in the early years of the twenty-first century, not very long after Zephrane Cochrane actually invented the drive. I was the test pilot for the second ship. The others had left in sleepers, decades before. I managed to catch up with several of them. But many more escaped. It has been always my mission, no matter how I was sidetracked, to hunt these renegades down. Wherever I have gone, I have always discharged this duty. Dubious as it may be, the honor is all mine.

******************************************************************

Marius West sat silent, as his Captain finished the story. Lestan's eyes were closed most of the time, and after he was done, he sat unmoving. Waiting for the jumble of thoughts and questions in the mortal man's mind to arrange themselves into a more orderly conglomeration.

"My god."

"Hmmmmmm? Oh. Well, technically, the power comes from God, but it was a curse. So everyone attributes it to the work of *Satan*. Personally, I've never met one vampire who had any working knowledge of the Evil One. They were just as `in the dark' about the forces of good and bad as mortals are."

"How many?"

"Pardon?" Lestan opened his eyes.

"How many have you killed?"

Lestan paused and thought.

"It's very hard to keep track, after all this time. That, and I try not to think about it too much. But, probably somewhere around three-hundred thousand."

"Three hundred...?? My god..."

"And unfortunately, Marius, that's just the tip of the iceberg. Imagine all of those vampires, creating other vampires, over the course of who knows how many eons? There must be almost as many vampires by this time, as living mortal beings."

"Impossible. That has to be fundamentally incorrect. If that were true, there would be a very finite food source... oh."

"Exactly. The event of the Replicator. We can effectively dispense with mortals altogether, if we chose. You are no longer really a link in the chain." Lestan smiled wanly.

"And... this is all you've ever done? Then why Starfleet?" the old man asked.

The vampire smiled.

"Ever wonder how many of your fellow officers weren't quite what they seemed?"

******************************************************************

Anton Gavrilov looked hollowly at the image on his forward viewscreen. The Star Tiger streaked through warp space, Illiad in tow. He ground his teeth together in pent up rage. Already the ship's doctor had repaired his lower molars once, and warned him against further stress on them.

"Ensign Berak, I want you to scan that ship."

"Sir?"

"Scan that ship! I want to know whatever our sensors can tell us about it."

"Captain, I can certainly scann them, but it won't be secret. Especially at this range. They're going to wonder what the deal is."

"If they question it, tell them we're testing repairs we've made on the scanners." the Captain barked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Mister Dagrun."

"Yes Captain?"

"I want information on the Excelsior class vessels. Crew compliment, standard equipment, offensive and defensive capabilities."

"Yes Sir. But is the Captain taking into account the actual ship?"

"What do you mean?" the steel gray hair gleamed above the officer's crinkling forehead.

"The Star Tiger was the first prototype ship in the class. There was another model produced later with slightly different specs. That was Admiral Sulu's ship, the Excelsior. His vessel became the standard. The Star Tiger was mothballed as a failed experiment."

"You seem to know a lot on the subject, crewman."

Jeffery Dagrun ducked his head slightly.

"My grandfather was the man in charge of the original project. He told me about the Star Tiger. Said him and the rest of the Engineers who worked on the project considered it to be a cursed ship. Nothing ever worked right. The TransWarp engines were never even started up. At least they could never get them started. That's why they built another test ship, the Excelsior."

"Those TransWarp engines seem to be working quite well now." the Captain grunted, glancing again at the ancient ship on his screen.

"Yes Sir. That has puzzled me too. Grandpa said they couldn't even get a proper cold test on them. They had the core working full blast, and not an erg of energy was getting to the engines. Weirdest thing I ever heard of."

"Sounds like gremlins to me." the science officer interjected, bent over his console.

"Pardon, Mister Maxal?"

"Eh? Oh, sorry sir. Thinking out loud to myself. One of my aunts told me about these mythical little creatures called gremlins. They supposedly like to cause mischief. They have an affinity for all things mechanical. Sounds like the old Star Tiger had an infestation of 'em." the sandy haired man said, grinning sheepishly.

"Thank you for that colorful bit of history, Lieutenant. I think we all benefited a bit from that one." Gavrilov said dryly, a half smile on his face.

"Yes Sir."

"Shall I start the scan, Captain?"

"Yes." Anton said, looking thoughtfully at the screen. His gut told him that there was something WRONG with that ship. Before they got back to dock, he intended to know what.


End file.
